


Friendship's Choice

by shadowwalker213



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 08:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 80
Words: 134,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14613531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowwalker213/pseuds/shadowwalker213
Summary: Stockwell forces Face into a no-win situation on behalf of the team





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Mel Ewing, http://www.snipercentral.com.phtml, for his expert help and information. Also to all the members of Yahoo's ATeamSB-2 (A-Team Story Board) for their comments and suggestions.
> 
> Originally published July 2004

PART ONE  
  
"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life." Richard Bach, author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull (1970)  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
"It can't continue. That's obvious. Someone, somewhere, has to do something."  
  
"Yes, if these groups are going to converge into one organization...I never thought they'd be able to pull it off - too much infighting and disorganization. Unfortunately, I was wrong..."  
  
"You weren't the only one. All our intelligence said the same thing. But they've come up with three people who seem able to unite the whole damn bunch. We can't let it go any further."  
  
"We're all agreed on that, gentlemen. The only question before us now, I believe, is how do we put a stop to it - without it coming back to haunt us in the international community..."  
  
"We can't use our people. No matter how hard we try, there's bound to be a leak."  
  
"No, we can't use any 'official' group. No way. Not even volunteers from the ranks - still open to leaks."  
  
"Mercenaries? They're notoriously disloyal - and greedy. We can't leave ourselves open to blackmail, either."  
  
The roomful of men sat in dismal, desperate silence. A small secretive smile prowled over the lips of one conspirator, however. He had the beginnings of a plan...a plan that would not only solve this small group of dignitaries' problem, but possibly take care of a burr in his side at the same time. Not to mention create a wealth of power for future use. But it would need to be done very carefully; if not given the proper consideration, it could literally blow up in his face...  
  
"Gentlemen, I believe I may be able to provide a solution to our mutual problem. However, it will take some time to arrange satisfactorily. There are some contingencies that must be covered - however, I would be willing to guarantee an arrangement could be made within a month's time, if not sooner."  
  
"They would be dealt with in that time?" "Surely not!" "What's this solution?"  
  
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. You all know how I work. Let me worry about the details. What I will need from each of you is the highest level of intelligence you can each get from your 'sources'. I will need completely up-to-date information on each of these three men and their organizations. If this plan of mine - 'of ours' - is to succeed, accuracy of information will be paramount. Forget the normal channels. We all have our little 'secret weapons' in the intelligence community - I suggest we use them to the fullest extent. It is imperative, as I know you understand."  
  
Many heads nodded in agreement. They all knew that normal intelligence gathering just would not be adequate for this type of operation. They also understood, implicitly, that they could very well lose some of their 'secret weapons' in this undertaking. However, it was necessary. Only their very best would be able to elicit the information they would need without forewarning the objects of their interest.  
  
"Very well, gentlemen, shall we meet again in say, three weeks time? I should have everything on my end in place by then, and will need your information to solidify things..."  
  
The distinguished gentlemen of the world slowly took their departure from the hotel, using various exits and transportation. Each was hopeful that, once again, General Stockwell would provide a solution to their problem...  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
Face was not happy about this meeting. When Stockwell had contacted him yesterday, he had specifically said he had a mission for the lieutenant alone, and he was not to mention it to the rest of the team. Naturally, Face's first instinct was to talk to Hannibal, but something in Stockwell's tone had told him to wait. So now he sat in his 'vette, watching a Little League game playing out a hundred yards away, with no one else around except an occasional dog walker. Stockwell had said to be at the park at 3:00 and he had arrived twenty minutes early to check things out. Not that he thought Stockwell would plan any betrayals - but why make it easy?  
  
He didn't like the idea of solo missions. They never worked out well. Hell, they just plain never worked out. They were a team, that's how they functioned, that's how they existed. Solo missions were like taking three wheels off a car and expecting it to win the Indy. But Stockwell would probably have some extreme reason why this would be a one-man job. Then the question would be why Face? Stockwell had no great respect or liking for the LT, he'd made that clear from the beginning. The General found him redundant, cannon-fodder. And certainly Face felt that way himself many times. Hell, most times. There were very few times he'd actually been needed for his "special skills"; occasionally out in the field, when they'd been out of touch with Stockwell or it had been quicker just to deal with situations on site. So again, why Face? What possible use would Stockwell have for him?  
  
'Speak of the Devil, here comes Stockwell now. If he wants to keep things under wrap, he needs to lose the limo. Not exactly clandestine, buddy.'  
  
The vehicle pulled up a few yards from the 'vette, and sat. Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, Face pulled himself from his car and sauntered over. He settled himself in the back, facing his nemesis.  
  
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I trust you had no problem leaving your teammates in the dark?"  
  
"No, I told them I had a date. They'd never think of you in those terms."  
  
"Hmm. Down to business, Peck. I have a very special assignment for you - and for you alone. If you complete it satisfactorily, the A-Team will have the pardons within hours of that completion."  
  
Face shook his head. "Sorry, General - been there, done that. Hannibal may believe in your fairy tales still, but not me."  
  
"I suggest you revive your faith in the system, Lieutenant. For this mission, you will not be working exclusively for me - or the United States, for that matter. And that means the 'fairy tale' has a bit more substance."  
  
Stockwell straightened, his businesslike demeanor becoming even more pronounced, if that was possible.  
  
"What I have to say from here on out is strictly between you and I, Peck. No discussion with the rest of your teammates, no discussion with anyone. If it goes outside this vehicle, the mission will be immediately aborted and you'll be lucky if you see a pardon in time for retirement. Do we understand each other?"  
  
"Pretty concrete, General."  
  
"Very well. Now, some background. Over the years, there has been a growing problem with terrorists in the Middle East. Most of these groups are small, disorganized, relying on local fanatics to provide them with manpower and supplies. Recently, leaders of a few of these groups have started discussing a coalition. Historically, these coalitions have never worked out. However, this trio of extremists are not only highly respected among their followers, they are articulate and practical. They know that, as individual factions, they will not be able to achieve their ultimate goals. They also know if they were to combine forces, not only would they have more manpower and resources, they would provide a strong front to the rest of the world - and in turn, gain even more followers and resources."  
  
Stockwell paused to sip his coffee. Peck was looking bored yet curious. Stockwell knew he had no idea what was coming.  
  
"Obviously, if these men are successful, this would be disastrous in terms of not only national security but in terms of Middle East stability. It would have massive ramifications worldwide. Therefore, I - and the other people I am working with - have decided that we must put a stop to this coalition before it reaches fruition.  
  
"We also realize that this cannot be accomplished through normal - or legal - channels. That's where you come in, Lieutenant."  
  
Face was not liking the direction this whole conversation was going. What the hell could he do about a bunch of fanatics halfway across the world? These jokers couldn't be captured by just one man; it would take the whole team and then they wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting them away from their followers. And if they couldn't be captured...  
  
"What's the mission, General?"  
  
"We need this threat...eliminated. Permanently. You will take care of that."  



	2. Chapter 2

"You are out of your fucking mind."  
  
Stockwell just kept looking at him. No backing down, no acknowledgment of the comment. Just kept looking at him.  
  
"We are not killers. Not any more."  
  
" 'We', Lieutenant? There is no 'we' - this is you. And yes, you are a killer. You were trained for it. You were very good at it. Very good. You haven't forgotten."  
  
"Damn right I haven't forgotten. That's why I won't do it. Never again."  
  
Stockwell smirked. "Never say 'never', Peck. You understand what is at stake here? You understand what getting rid of these people will mean?"  
  
"There are alternatives. There are always alternatives."  
  
"Certainly. In this case, political chaos. Thousands of innocent people dead."  
  
"Killing these men would only make them martyrs."  
  
"Probably. But martyrs can't negotiate, can't cajole, can't create dangerous alliances. That remains the province of the living."  
  
Face remained silent. He had given his answer. There was no way...  
  
"You really have no choice in the matter. This is a mission. This is what is required of you. You will do it. Or face the consequences."  
  
"What consequences? More waiting for pardons that aren't coming?" Face snorted.  
  
"No, Lieutenant, this is far more important than mere pieces of paper. You will accept and complete this assignment. You will give me your word, today, before you leave. Because if you don't, by the time you get back to the house, it will be empty."  
  
"What, you'll cut us loose? Set the army on our tail again? Like we haven't been that route before."  
  
"No, the Team will not be cut loose. You, yes. To run and hide and watch over your shoulder for however long you can. But not the team. The team will cease to exist...completely and irrevocably, Lieutenant."  
  
The cold was devastating. It hit him with the clout of a Mack truck. Surely Stockwell wasn't saying...yes, the bastard was saying exactly that. Three lives for four. My God, what kind of monster had Hannibal bound them to?  
  
He couldn't do this. He couldn't. Cold blooded murder? Not that these men were innocents. No, far from that. Far far from that. But Hannibal, BA, Murdock - they'd all sworn, no more killing. He'd sworn it. No more. But...damn. To refuse to kill would mean the deaths of those he loved more than life itself. To kill or allow to be killed. Three strangers for the Team. Three terrorists for men who had saved more lives than he could count. Three monsters for his family.  
  
What would Hannibal say? My God, Hannibal. What would you do? What would you do afterward? How would you look at me then? Would I lose you forever? BA, Murdock... could you look at me again? Could I live with myself if I said no? Could I really let you all die for a long-ago promise?  
  
Three for four.  
  
It wasn't as though he couldn't actually accomplish the task. He hadn't lost the touch, the surety, the finesse needed to stalk them and lay out the plans. But pulling the trigger? Lighting the fuse? Knowing it was not just disabling but destroying?  
  
Three for four.  
  
No turning these people over to the authorities. Total destruction. Murder. These terrorists had killed how many? How many had the Team saved? Did the math make it right?  
  
It would take so much planning. They would not be easy to take. Foreign country - he'd stand out like a sore thumb. It would have to done so carefully. Not once, but three times. And each time it would get more difficult, as the defenses increased. And without the Team for backup, for support. No one watching his back...  
  
Three for four.  
  
He'd have to work through Stockwell. Ways and means. In's and out's. Backdoors. Intelligence. Facts, figures, contacts. Not too many of those. No more loose ends than necessary. Would he have to kill others to get to these three? Maybe. Probably. Do the math. How many more? How many more innocents? No, not innocents. Terrorists. Killers themselves.  
  
Three for four.  
  
A dozen for four.  
  
A hundred for four.  
  
"Tell me about the targets..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Targets."  
  
Stockwell loved that word. Not 'people'. Not even 'terrorists' or 'ringleaders'. Targets. The General had watched Peck. He'd seen the realization hit. He'd seen the denial, the conflict, the reasoning. It was the reasoning he'd been looking for. Once he'd pushed past the emotionalism and gone into logic, Stockwell knew Peck was his. Targets. What a lovely little word, signifying the switch from the moralistic high ground to practical realities.  
  
And the tone of voice. No mistaking that. Businesslike. Professional. Oh yes, Peck would take on the mission and complete it to the best of his ability. How successful would he most likely be? Stockwell had already figured he would take the first with minimal difficulty. No one would be expecting it. The second would be much more difficult; the third, most likely impossible. He expected to lose the lieutenant on that one. However, with two of the principals gone, no alliance would take place. Even one missing would make it a Herculean task. He'd just have to make sure they were taken out in the right order, the most effective target first.  
  
Would he have gone through with his threat? Everything was in place. 30 minutes at the most. They would all have just disappeared. The only thing the team would have noticed were a few extra security people. A clean up crew already in place, just waiting for the order. A simple push on an automated phone dialer. He wouldn't even have to speak the words. Very clean and tidy. No mess, no muss.  
  
Yes, he would have done it. The costs for Peck's refusal would have been monstrous. Much greater than the loss of four men. Granted, very talented and successful men. But that didn't mean much when compared to the disaster resulting from an alliance; not to mention the loss of power and prestige he himself would face among the men he dealt with. Peck would have had to pay for that loss. Dearly.  
  
He pulled three files from his case, silently handing them to the Lieutenant.  
  
"Read through these carefully. These are just the basics. When you're done, they'll stay with me. You and I will meet again on Monday. Pack a bag. Just the essentials. You'll get whatever you need when we arrive at our destination. There will be much more detailed information for you then also."  
  
"Monday? What am I supposed to tell the rest?"  
  
"I'm giving the team a couple weeks off, for 'good behavior'. I'll provide transportation for all of them, incentives to take separate vacations. The captain may be a problem - I don't want him making any plans for the two of you. However, you might invent a young woman to be romancing for those two weeks. Captain Murdock will accept that he would not be invited along for that."  
  
"You expect this to be taken care of it a couple of weeks? That's crazy."  
  
"I only expect that this will give you time to disappear into the mission without the rest stepping in to create problems. I will deal with them myself on their return."  
  
"Deal with them? How?" Face was immediately suspicious.  
  
"Don't worry, Lieutenant. You hold up your end of the bargain, I'll hold up mine."  
  
Face glared at Stockwell. For just a moment, the General almost felt threatened. He must remember he was not dealing with some kind of patriotic zealot. This was a man with his back against the wall. And like any trapped animal, he was ready to lash out at any perceived threat. Peck might just decide that one kill would be better than three. Something to bear in mind. He would maintain tight surveillance on the rest of the team. Stockwell's threat must remain in the lieutenant's mind. Always.  
  
Face finished reading the files quickly. Enough information to let him know what kind of targets he was dealing with. He would definitely need more information, detailed information. He shoved the files back at Stockwell.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"No, that should handle things for the moment. There will be plenty of time on the flight to go over details. You'll receive your travel information along with the rest of the team sometime tomorrow."  
  
"Fine." Abruptly, Face left the limo and marched to the 'vette. Tires squealing, he left the park and hit the highway. He couldn't go back to the house right away. He had to get himself together. He had to prepare. God. How the hell do you prepare for what he was going to have to do? How was he going to live with the Team for the next three days without letting them know something was wrong? So terribly wrong...


	4. Chapter 4

He'd driven for hours, trying to throw all thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to think about anything, anyone, any time. He finally found himself on a secluded shore, no one except a few gulls for company. Normally the ocean provided Face with a solace he could find nowhere else, but today the steady thrum of the waves was almost mocking, reproachful. The late afternoon sun had drifted behind insipid gray clouds, and the water was a cold steel color. The earlier soft, warm breeze had even changed to a cold blast. God expressing his opinion of me, Peck thought. Showing me my soul...  
  
He was committed now. No way to change his decision. He could still tell Hannibal, but he knew exactly what would happen. The colonel would immediately take the team and escape. Stockwell may or may not be able to stop them. But he would come after them - with a vengeance. The Army would look like teddy bears compared to what Stockwell would throw at them. And there were others to consider. Maggie. Mrs. B. Frankie's dad. Father Magill...their lives wouldn't be worth a plug nickel. The General would obviously not be held to any standard of morality.  
  
"If I survive this, Stockwell, yours will be the last death on my hands. I swear to God."  
  
If he survived. He knew Stockwell didn't think he'd be able to complete the mission. One, probably two of the targets could be counted as dead. He knew that. He also knew that his chances of surviving the second attack were not good. He could pretty much plan his funeral after the third. Accept death and then you're not afraid of it. They faced it every time they went out on a mission. But this time he wouldn't have the team with him - he'd be facing death on his own. That made it a little different. But he would at least have the knowledge that his family would be safe - and free. He just hoped Stockwell would have the decency not to let them know the price for that. Let them think Face had just died somewhere but not how, doing what.  
  
He shook his head. Enough thinking along those lines. Too easy for that to warp into self fulfillment. Accept the possible outcomes and then move on. Don't fix on them. He began thinking in terms of what he would need. Possible scenarios. Looking at what could happen, where, time frames - living them in his mind. What could go wrong - how he would deal with that. Contingencies. Emotions were shoved away, replaced by plans. Worry, disgust, displaced by pragmatism, professionalism. This was his job. He would do it well. Very well. He would bring on the Jazz.  
  
He drove back to the compound. The people living in it were asleep. Good. He wasn't quite ready to deal with that problem yet. He needed to bring out more of the Professional first. Needed to get past Hannibal, to The Colonel. Past BA, to The Mechanic. Murdock, The Pilot. Frankie ceased to exist as a person at all. He was just there. The Ables were machines. He would not spend much time at the house. He needed to get some training in. The sooner he started on that the better. Get sharp. Prepared. Easier that way, not seeing them constantly. He couldn't afford to have them on his mind. He would need all his energy to complete the Job.  
  
He quietly let himself in and headed immediately for the shower. He stood under scalding hot water, scrubbing and scrubbing. When his body felt raw, he turned off the tap and dried off, slipping immediately into bed. He didn't think he could sleep. No, he needed to sleep. He needed to be rested. It was necessary. What was needed, was necessary, would be done.  
  
Morning came. Barely. The eastern sky was just starting to lighten when Face woke up. He quickly dressed and headed to the kitchen. He needed a good breakfast. He would need energy and stamina today because he was going to put himself through the toughest course he could think of. Today and each of the next days, until it was time.  
  
He was just finishing when Hannibal came into the kitchen. The colonel was surprised to see his lieutenant up so early, particularly after the obviously late night he'd had. He cocked an eyebrow at the younger man.  
  
"Morning, Colonel."  
  
"Colonel? Awfully formal this early in the morning, aren't we?"  
  
Face shrugged and carefully stacked his dishes in the sink. He needed to get going.  
  
"Something wrong, Face?"  
  
"Not at all. I have a lot of things to do today. Just a little preoccupied."  
  
"What kind of things?"  
  
"Odds and ends. Things I should have taken care of earlier but didn't. Anyway, I gotta get going. I'll see you later on..."  
  
Hannibal thoughtfully watched the back door as it swung closed after his friend.  
  
*****  
  
"What's going on with him?" Murdock watched the 'vette pull down the driveway and onto the street. Three Ables watched but didn't even question him, which was also odd. And what was with all these extra goons, anyway? "Things are all weird, Hannibal."  
  
"Yeah, something's going on. Stockwell's got something up his sleeve." Hannibal had watched as the additional Ables had arrived the day before yesterday. Face had just left on a date. They had shown up unobtrusively, almost wandering in, gracefully blending in the with others. But it was noticeable. They hadn't done anything aggressive, no posturing. They were just there. And they had stayed. About an hour or so after Face had left, he'd noticed a tension among them. And it almost seemed as if they were gathering around the various team members. There was a sense of waiting for something, and then, as suddenly as it appeared, the tension evaporated and the Ables spread out around the compound once more. No more tension, but they didn't leave again.  
  
And yesterday, Face was up at the crack of dawn after getting home well after the others had gone to bed. That in itself was strange. He normally would have slept in late. He'd taken off almost immediately and been gone all day, coming home dirty, sweaty and looking exhausted. Hannibal had started questioning him, only to have Face almost deliberately turn his back on him and head for his room. He'd heard him in the shower and figured he would talk to him when he came out. He never did. Hannibal looked in his room, and Face had been sound asleep.  
  
Then there was this 'vacation' crap. One of the Ables had brought the tickets yesterday afternoon. He found he was going to Bad Rock, BA to Chicago, Frankie to see his father. Murdock would be staying in Langley; he'd gotten a call the day before to start a new job. But Face was going to New York. New York? What the hell was in New York?  
  
Yeah, something was definitely going on.  
  
*****  
  
Face had gone to a secure training area normally used by Stockwell's Ables. It wasn't quite what he needed, but he could work it adequately enough. He hated dealing with Stockwell's people on any level, but he needed spotters for the Stalk. Two spotters stood on a truck, two others walked the field. Face would start at 1000 meters out; he had to get to within 150 meters of the truck without being seen. Then he had to take a shot and get to a second position. If he was spotted at any time, he had to start all over.  
  
The first several hours had been grueling; he'd forgotten more than he had realized. He'd been seen almost immediately the first several attempts. Slowly he began remembering things. Remembering that long ago training. The subtleties. The thinking. Planning. The movements. And then it clicked. And the Ables weren't seeing him. Not until he was right on top of them. And it felt good.  
  
He remained at the training ground until nearly dark. And when he got back to the compound, he knew the training was still in his head, and the mission was worming its way into his subconscious. He found himself looking at Hannibal/The Colonel, Murdock/The Pilot, BA/The Mechanic. His friends were disappearing.  
  
*****  
  
The team were finishing a late night snack in the living room when Face walked in that night. They were tense; another day of extra Ables was getting on their collective nerves. Even Frankie was antsy. Four pair of eyes landed squarely on the Lieutenant as he crossed the room with only a quick nod in their direction.  
  
"Face. Mind telling us where you were today?" Hannibal's voice was definitely "don't walk away from me tonight!".  
  
"Just seeing a friend, Colonel. We had a lot to talk about." They all noticed the formality in Face's voice. Something was up there.  
  
"A friend? Who might that be?"  
  
"A lady friend. She's going with me to New York."  
  
Hannibal stared. "Stockwell knows about her?"  
  
Face frowned. "Sure, he knows. He's not happy about it, but he knows. Anything else, Colonel?"  
  
Hannibal sighed and dismissed him with a shake of his head. Face headed to his room without a backward glance.  
  
As soon as Face was out of earshot, Murdock observed dryly, "I hope they don’t 'talk' in New York like they have here, or Face won’t live through it."  
  
"You noticed that, too, Captain?"  
  
"Yeah, he looked like he’d been on an obstacle course, not one of his dates. What do you suppose is really going on?"  
  
"No idea, Murdock. But you know Face - if he doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t talk. Maybe he needs this vacation more than we realize." Meaning, Murdock understood, that Face had better straighten things out when he got back.  
  
"Picked a fine time to go cold on us," BA grumbled, as he and Frankie carried the snack remains into the kitchen.  
  
"I wonder if it had anything to do with that call from Stockwell?"  
  
"What call?"  
  
"The other day, I heard him on the phone, I thought talking to Stockwell. Called him ‘General" a couple times. Didn’t sound real happy. Why do you suppose he’d be talking to Face instead of Johnny?"  
  
"Oh he probably just told Face to tell Hannibal something. Face hates being his messenger and Stockwell knows it. Otherwise he don’t talk to Face any more than he has to."  
  
They laughed, both knowing the reasons behind Stockwell’s reticence, and headed back to the living room.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had decided to stay over at the compound that night. They had stayed up late, talking about the vacations Stockwell had provided. He was a little envious of the others, and yet he'd been excited about the new job as well. And after all, between missions he was pretty much free to come and go as he pleased.  
  
He knew Hannibal was excited about seeing Maggie again, and yet they had a shared concern about events at Langley. It seemed very strange that, just when it appeared Stockwell was beefing up security, he'd suddenly decided to let them all take off. It didn't make a lot of sense. They both knew, of course, that there would be surveillance on these trips. Stockwell wasn't stupid. Still, it just didn't sit well.  
  
Then there was Face. What was going on with him? He knew that his friend had a tendency to get preoccupied with things, but that was usually when he was running a scam. And Face hadn't had to do that for a long time...not since coming under Stockwell's wing. Little things here and there but that was about it. Murdock knew that bothered him. Not the lack of scamming necessarily, but the lack of having something he considered 'useful' to do.  
  
As to this new 'lady friend' of his, that was bothering him, too. It shouldn't. Face always had something up his sleeve in that department. But he hadn't mentioned any one girl in particular of late, and then he's taking this one on a two week vacation? And Murdock knew damn well he hadn't been spending all this time with her. He was coming home physically and mentally wired. No woman could be that good.  
  
"Oh, Murdock, you chauvinist!" he grinned, and fell asleep.  
  
*****  
  
There was no more discussion of Face’s new woman friend. The next day, he once again disappeared first thing in the morning, arriving back at the compound shortly before Hannibal and Frankie left for the airport. Murdock was going to drop BA at the train station. The departures were strained. Four people felt there was something wrong about leaving, but couldn’t explain what exactly. The fifth felt it would probably be the last time they saw each other and yet dare not express anything other than normalcy. ‘The Colonel, The Mechanic, The Pilot,’ he thought, as his friends disappeared.  
  
Face’s flight didn’t leave until later in the evening, so when Murdock returned, he offered to take him to the airport, hoping to meet the new lady.  
  
"That’s all right, Murdock. I’ve already arranged for a limo for us."  
  
"A limo? Geez, Face, what are you going to do, marry this one?"  
  
Giving Murdock an exasperated glance, Face retreated to his room. Except for giving him a hearty good-bye when the limo arrived, Murdock didn’t see him again.


	5. Chapter 5

Face tossed the papers down in disgust. If he looked at one more communiqué, one more aerial photo, he was going to scream. The information he needed, absolutely. What he didn't need was sifting through the various sources' documents trying to reconcile the conflicting information. Everything that didn't match up had to be double-checked in the field, which took time and risk. But if it wasn't done, he could end up watching a group of shepherds instead taking aim on his target. Or worse. The problem being, of course, that his targets were paranoid and tended to move quickly and frequently. But a pattern was emerging. The same few places showing up. The same names. Even a few behavioral patterns, which was excellent. Damn the paperwork. He was ready for action.  
  
Pushing away from the desk, Face moved to the small kitchenette and poured yet more coffee. It was nearly three in the morning and he had planned another good 3-4 hours work. Then a run through the training course, a few hours sleep, and then tanning. He smiled at that. He never thought sunbathing would be part of his job requirements. But he needed to fit in here and for more than just a few hours at a time. Makeup just wouldn't cut it. He glanced in the small mirror over the dresser. He still couldn't get used to dark hair and brown eyes and his new beard was really itching. He was getting used to wearing the contacs. But in a couple of days, you wouldn't give him a second look in a crowded marketplace.  
  
He glanced around the small apartment. Bedroom, living room, kitchen all in one room, small bathroom with a tiny shower. Panoramic view of a back alley. Second floor, easy access to escape. The only person who came here was a courier - never the same one, never the same time of day or night. He looked at the floor, out the window, or stayed in the bathroom each time they came in, so they never saw his face. He saw no one else. If he needed something, he called a number from a phone booth. A different booth each time. They would call him back. And give him a new number for the next call. They didn't know who he was or what his mission was, precisely. They only knew if he asked for something, they got it for him. He was a ghost.  
  
His wired mind shifted back to Langley. He knew the men there had thought something was amiss. Nothing serious, just something off about Face. He was almost never there, for one thing. And he had been cool, almost formal, when he was. Had to be. Several times The Colonel had come close to forcing a "little talk" with him, but he'd wiggled out of it. Things had settled down when he announced he was taking a new girlfriend on a trip for his 'vacation'. That had answered their questions adequately enough - his mind was occupied with the 'latest', that's all. What had they thought when he didn't show up at the compound? What had Stockwell told them? Okay, didn't matter. Close that book. He had to concentrate on the Job. That's all. Nothing he could do about Langley here. None of that was under his control any more.  
  
Sighing, he headed back toward the table, filled with papers, photos, and his notes. Stockwell and his cronies wanted him to move in soon but he had conflicting evidence as to where Aadil was staying. It was infuriating - he had two possible locations and they were within a few miles of each other. He had people working on it, but he couldn't do anything until he knew. He sighed again. His change in appearance was almost completed; it would make it so much easier when he could do his own footwork. It didn't matter if he had information five minutes old from his contacts - he'd do his own recon in the final stages. That could not be left to others.  
  
Stockwell considered Aadil to be the most important of the three. Take him out and it might be enough damage to destroy any thoughts of a coalition. Might. No taking any chances. Stockwell wanted them all taken care of, just to be sure. Aadil was the most paranoid. He'd moved at least three times in the last ten days. According to reports. Face gritted his teeth. He needed to know the layout of the land, where he could hide, where his backdoor would be, who would be around the target, how fast they'd react...so much he had to know, just for a job of two minutes.  
  
His phone rang. He stopped dead, listening. Two rings. A third. Then silence. After about 30 seconds, two more rings. Face threw on a gutrah, loosely tossing the end of the scarf over his face. He paused a moment before opening the door, and then was out and hurrying down the staircase. Three blocks from the apartment he entered a phone booth and made the call.  
  
Aadil had been found. The game was on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gutrah is one part of the traditional Arab head cover, but I have used it as the entire ensemble.


	6. Chapter 6

The target and his entourage had engaged rooms for a week in a small hotel near the center of the town. This had been done two days ago, and the Lieutenant had been notified at once. He had not gone immediately to the location. He continued his routine the next day. It gave him time to complete his appearance, rest, and see if any conflicting information surfaced. He spent several hours breaking in the barrel of his rifle. It was custom built. McMillan stock, Remington 700 action, patterned after the USMC M40. Effective range about 2600 feet. He had ordered three of them.  
  
That night, he made his first foray into hostile land.  
  
He was not dressed in the traditional garb this time. There was no need to hide his face, now darkly tanned and bearded, even during the day. He had no intention of being seen, however, day or night. He was dressed in dark casual clothing and was carrying a duffel containing his rifle, a single clip, scope, shooting glove, and a gutrah and thaub ready for his escape. It also contained enough rations and water for three days. If it took longer than that, it wouldn't happen. This time.  
  
He easily found the address of his prey. He didn't go closer than a block away, near enough to see what it looked like, far enough not to be noticed. He stayed to the shadows as much as possible. He didn't want to be seen, but he didn't want to raise suspicions at this point if he were. Once he had set the location in his mind, he moved on to the next street. He was more circumspect here. He was getting closer to the area where he would be hidden away, and wanted no one remembering any strangers wandering the streets at night.  
  
One more street over he found his spot. A series of taller buildings, business offices according to intelligence, which faced the target's building. Finding the rear entrance, the Lieutenant quickly picked the lock and entered the silent building, and made his way quickly but carefully to the top. From the roof's air conditioning system, he could easily see the side of the street where Aadil would exit his hotel. He quickly hid the duffel in among the air conditioning equipment and exited the building. He needed to walk the area, confirm in person what satellite photos had already told him about the layout of the area, to ensure a quick and orderly escape from the roof after the job was completed. Tomorrow, he would venture down during business hours, to see how crowded the building would be, how his escape might be helped or hindered by the flow of people in and out of the building and streets. Beyond that, he would not leave the roof until his final escape.  
  
He confirmed three different avenues of escape. Tomorrow he would decide which one would be the most viable, keeping the others open as contingencies. He returned to his rooftop perch and pulled the scope from his duffel. A quick check of his target's building confirmed that all was quiet and he found a shielded place to sleep. Tomorrow would be more observe, confirm, practice. After that, he would wait for opportunity.  
  
*****  
  
The target was moving. The Lieutenant had watched the early scouts come out of the building, casually studying their surroundings. The next set of bodyguards stepped out, glancing back at the doorway to the hotel. The target would be next out.  
  
He had lain on top of the air conditioning unit for hours. His position was secure from observation for the most part, thanks to the height of the building and other parts of the buildings' mechanical systems, but he acted as though he were constantly under observation. His movements, though few, were cautious and slow. His rifle rested against his cheek, held in position by the bipod. He watched through the scope, every movement, every nuance of the bodyguards. His gloved finger rested lightly on the trigger. He made his breathing slow and regular, finger tightening slightly with each exhale.  
  
The doors to the hotel opened once again. Target sighted. Stepping out, talking to his entourage, nodding sagely, smiling occasionally. Stopped, glancing around the street. Talking some more.  
  
The Lieutenant tensed slightly. No room for doubts, no room for any thought other than the job. Sighting on the target. Calming. Readying. Finger tightening, not jerking, slowly pressing back on the trigger. Ready...ready...ready...  
  
Figures moving, running, pointing. The rifle laying on the roof. A door opens. Stairwell. Thaub thrown on. Steps. Another door. Quick left into the men's room. Gutrah placed carefully, calmly. Hallway. More stairs, doors, halls. Street. Crowds. Sirens in the distance. Melting into the crowd. Movements calm, calculated, brisk. Side street. Alley. Street. No panic. Blending in. Disappearing. A ghost...  
  
*****  
  
"They're killing each other off again," Frankie commented.  
  
"What's that?" Murdock glanced over, feigning interest while bouncing a rubber ball off the wall. It was beginning to get on everyone's already frayed nerves.  
  
"Somebody took out the head of one of those terrorist gangs."  
  
Hannibal was deeply involved in mending a shirt, peripherally interested in Frankie's comments. He looked up at the TV. Apparently the guy was some big shot over there.  
  
BA would rather have been watching a baseball game. People getting killed was the last thing he wanted to think about. Unless it was killing Murdock - him and that damn ball. As the ball sailed past his head one more time, a meaty fist reached out and grabbed it. One less ball in the world. Murdock stuck his tongue out at him.  
  
Hannibal smiled at the exchange. Something close to normal. It had been a long time. Smith's thoughts jumped to his missing teammate. He hadn't gone a day without wondering about Stockwell's thin explanation for Face's continued absence. The General had appeared dangerously angry that the missing man had apparently disappeared with his new girlfriend, but Hannibal had had a hard time believing that Face would just take off with no word to his team, especially with someone he hadn't mentioned before. Yet his behavior of the three days before their vacations would certainly confirm that he had had plans he didn't want the team to know about.  
  
Murdock noticed the Colonel's smile, and how it faded so quickly. He knew what Hannibal was thinking about. Who. It had been a long, long month...  
  
....To say that tempers were flaring would be the understatement of the decade. Murdock arrived at the compound after getting off work, and found Hannibal shouting at Stockwell with none of the bantering edge.  
  
"How the hell would I know, Stockwell? You're the one who let him go to New York! You're the one that okayed this woman to go along! And where were your guys? They sure made their presence known where I was. BA and Frankie, too. So where were Face's guys? Sleeping or drunk?!"  
  
"I expect you to control your men, Colonel, regardless of where they are or who they're with! Your Lieutenant never mentioned this woman to me. If he had, that would have been the end of it. Are you trying to tell me he never once said anything about her to you? Or about his plans to desert?" Stockwell sounded angrier than Murdock had ever heard him before.  
  
"Wait a minute, man, ain't nobody deserted!" BA was getting more and more worked up.  
  
"Easy, BA, easy, he didn't really mean that, did you, General?" Frankie was bouncing between the two men, trying to stave off a worse disaster.  
  
"You find my man, Stockwell, or you let us go find him! One way or another, he's going to be found!"  
  
"You will stay right here, Colonel, and so will the rest of your unit. In fact, no one is going anywhere until your Lieutenant is back where he belongs."  
  
Stockwell stalked out of the house, leaving Hannibal standing open-mouthed and angry.  
  
"What the hell's going on?" Murdock glanced from one to the next.  
  
"Face took a powder." Frankie flinched when Hannibal glared at his phrase. "Well, he did, Johnny." Looking back at Murdock, he explained, "Stockwell said he and his girlfriend arrived at the hotel, spent a couple days there and then disappeared. He's really pissed."  
  
"Fool thinks Hannibal can just make him reappear out of nowhere." BA was pounding his fist into his palm, anger pouring out of him. "If I get hold of the Faceman I'm gonna pound him good!"  
  
"Well, now wait a minute, BA. Do we know for sure Face took off? I mean, has anyone checked the hospitals and...stuff?"  
  
"Yeah, Stockwell checked everywhere, he says," Hannibal actually growled. "Face has taken off with that woman, that's pretty clear to him. I just can't believe he'd leave without saying anything to any of us."  
  
"Well, it does kinda explain the way he was acting before we all left, though. I wonder who this gal is? She must be something special for him to do this."  
  
Hannibal was starting to calm down. "I don't like it. If Face had talked about this new girlfriend, said anything at all about her, then maybe I could believe him leaving with her. Maybe. But this is Face..."  
  
"He'd never do it, Hannibal. We all know that."  
  
"Yeah, I know, BA. And probably, in another couple weeks, he'll come running back, all apology and relieved as hell to be away from her." Hannibal almost smiled. But it wasn't adding up. He knew that all of them had been shadowed during their vacations. That would have been normal procedure. But this was something more. He'd KNOWN the Ables were there. The surveillance was too tight. It was overkill. And yet Face, with a girl who wouldn't know surveillance if it bit her on the ass, had managed to slip away. Face was good, but not that good.....  
  
Things had only gotten worse. The more time passed with no word, the more volatile Hannibal had gotten. He verbally attacked Stockwell at every opportunity. He baited the Ables without mercy and without any of the sardonic humor. He might have continued, had it not been for BA. Hannibal had been going at one of the Ables again, taking his anger out on the unhappy man after yet another confrontation with Stockwell. BA had watched for a moment, then lumbered over, slugged the Able, and then looked at Hannibal without saying a word. Hannibal just stared as several other Ables ran over.  
  
"Now, did I just accomplish anythin', Colonel?" BA finally asked.  
  
"Not really, Sergeant."  
  
"You think you're screaming at these guys is doing any better?"  
  
Hannibal shook his head, chagrined.  
  
"You better start remembering you still got other people in your unit, Hannibal. You ain't the only one angry and hurtin'. Okay?"  
  
There were no more tirades against the Ables, although Stockwell didn't escape them. Hannibal hadn't given up; but he wasn't giving in to the incredible frustration he felt. He took every scrap of information Stockwell gave him and tried to come up with a plan. But, isolated on the compound, surrounded on every side by alert guards, he was hamstrung. So he thought and planned and thought some more. And tried to keep his other men occupied.  
  
And Frankie kept thinking about that phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thaub (or thoub) is the traditional one piece "dress".


	7. Chapter 7

He spent a lot of time staring at his hands. Not just staring, actually, but studying them. The nails, the cuticles, the wrinkles of the knuckles, the blood vessels on top, the lines of the palms. They didn't look any different. Not really. Darker, of course. But not 'different'. For some reason, that didn't seem right. They should look different. They should. Because they were. Really. They weren't his hands any more. So they should look different. They should look...dirty. They should be ugly hands. The fingers shouldn't look long and graceful. They should be stubby and ugly. Bent. Yeah. Ugly and bent. That's how they should look.  
  
He stuck them in his pockets.  
  
Wandering to the window, he looked over the new vista. He'd left the city within an hour of the shooting. All the paperwork, photos, everything that had to do with the job had been collected by a clean up crew while he was out. He had picked up the remainder of his effects, being careful not to touch anything and re-contaminate the site. He had gone to a produce truck and climbed into the back, legs hanging over the tailgate, and ridden silently to his new abode. They had been stopped three times on the way out of the city; being deaf and dumb, a victim of the past war, he had been dismissed by the guards. The first thing he had done on arrival was to remove the fake scar from his throat. There had been no way anyone would know he spoke little of the local language.  
  
He had no idea how long he would be in this new place. Nabeeh, the next in line, would undoubtedly have disappeared immediately upon hearing the news. It would take some time to track him down. The new intelligence reports would start filtering through to him later, but they would be of little use to him. For the next few days they would only tell him what he already knew - Nabeeh hadn't been sighted yet. Which meant he would be left with a lot of time on his hands.  
  
At least he was able to move about more, not stuck in the house as he had been at the apartment. His supplies would still be delivered, so he would not have to make direct contact with any of the locals. The idea was to remain isolated, avoid any possibility of being detected. Which was fine with him. He wanted no human contact.  
  
*****  
  
Out of desperation to keep them occupied, Hannibal had had Stockwell bring their weapons out of storage. These were each member's own personal favorites, the ones they had broken in over the years and preferred over any others. Although they were cleaned thoroughly after every mission, Hannibal had decided they needed to broken down completely and inspected. There were two problems with this diversion. One, it left Frankie without anything to do except get in the way. Two, cleaning was so automatic it left room for talk.  
  
"It ain't right, Hannibal. We woulda heard somethin' by now."  
  
Hannibal knew BA was right. Even if Face had decided to cut and run, he would have found some way of letting them know he was all right. He wouldn't have just disappeared without a trace. Almost three months. Stockwell had given them some so-called updates - he'd been spotted here or there with his girlfriend, but had vanished before he could be collected. But the General had said nothing for the last several weeks. Something else was going on.  
  
"I know, BA. I know. I wish to hell there were some way of looking for him. But I can't risk one of us getting shot. That wouldn't help Face or us."  
  
BA scowled as only he could. He knew Hannibal was wanting to go after Face, but he was stymied by Stockwell's goons. None of them could move from the house itself without being obviously followed by at least three Ables. A couple of times, guns had actually been drawn when one of them had ventured too close to the perimeter. They hadn't had any serious missions, quick side trips almost. A couple days here, a couple days there. Most of their time was spent here. Doing nothing. How many times could he strip the van down and rebuild it, anyway?  
  
Murdock wasn't helping things any. He had been fired from his last job after snapping at the owner, almost a month after. He moved in with the Team, sleeping in Face's room, rarely talking to anyone. When he did talk, it was one wild speculation after another as to what Face could be doing, where he might be. Or making dark comments about the team not going after him. It was all BA could do to keep from literally knocking some sense into him.  
  
Frankie was the only one who seemed unaffected by events. He was never that keen about going on their missions, so their forced inactivity suited him. Not that he didn't wonder about the wayward lieutenant. He'd voiced his own opinions about it. None showed any real knowledge of what Face was all about, but at least it showed he wasn't just forgetting about him.  
  
'Hey, what about this one? I could clean it, right?"  
  
Murdock damn near had a fit. It was Face's rifle. He'd had it with him since Nam and wouldn't let anyone, absolutely anyone, touch it. Murdock didn't know the significance of it; it was one thing Face would not discuss with him. But he knew Face would have exploded to see Frankie, of all people, handling it. The pilot grabbed it from Frankie's hands, scaring the bejeebers out of him.  
  
"No, Frankie, this is Face's and nobody cleans it but him. I don't know why they brought it over..." And then Murdock stopped, and looked at the rifle, puzzled.  
  
"Hannibal, this is clean."  
  
Hannibal looked up. "Of course it is, Murdock."  
  
"No, no, I mean, CLEAN. Look at your Ingram. When was the last time you used it?"  
  
Hannibal picked up the Mac 10. It was clean, but it was obvious it had been in storage for some time.  
  
"Last time was about four months ago. Why?"  
  
"Look at this rifle, Hannibal. It's cleaner than the Ingram. It shouldn't be. Face hasn't used this in at least six or seven months."  
  
Hannibal reached over and took the rifle. That was strange. He knew it hadn't been out of storage; Hannibal had to ask for specific weapons every time they went out. And he hadn't asked for this one...  
  
BA looked over at Hannibal. That rifle was not something Face liked to use if he didn't have to. That was his sniper rifle. It brought back memories Face didn't like. He remembered Frankie talking about that terrorist getting shot by the sniper. BA had wondered at the time if that guy used the same kind of rifle. Face wouldn't have used any other. But then Face wouldn't kill anybody anyway. He'd get himself killed rather than that.


	8. Chapter 8

He couldn't believe the information coming through. A meeting had been arranged between Nabeeh and Dahwar, his two remaining targets. In fact, a third person, Aadil's successor, was also supposed to be at this meeting. The information had come from multiple sources. Times and places kept changing, as the principals tried to decide where they would be safest. But every location mentioned so far had been in isolated areas, with lots of open space surrounding them, making it harder for anyone to infiltrate the immediate area. That was okay. He didn't need to be that close. He only needed to know the kind of terrain surrounding it. The various ways in and out. He wasn't worrying about Dahwar yet, but definitely kept him in mind. Aadil's successor wasn't in the equation. Not just because he wasn't part of the original mission, but because he was already proving himself to be too much the zealot, not enough the diplomat. He was just another terrorist. He would bring nothing to the coalition effort.  
  
The Ghillie suit was under the bed, well out of sight. He'd tried it on the day it arrived, making sure it fit properly, allowed him easy movement, didn't pinch or bind. Depending on where the meeting was to take place, he would customize it further for maximum camouflage. The rifle case, too, would be camouflaged, as he could take no chances on the weapon itself being seen.  
  
His senses were honed now. The Jazz was building. No, not the Jazz. Something darker. There was no joy in this. Not exactly excitement either. The challenge. The challenge to his intellect, his physical conditioning, his marksmanship, his training. The need to succeed. The need to carry out this mission, the stakes involved. The stakes. The consequences of failure...  
  
He shook his head. Don't go there. Not now. He found he was staring at the hands again. Damn, those hands. Stop it. Now. Hands in pockets. The only safe place for them to be. He'd like to cut them off. Maim them. Enough. Concentrate on the reports. Work on the rifle. Clean it. Check the maps. Take a walk. Anything. Just don't look at the hands.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was still worrying about the rifle. He knew Hannibal was, too. Someone had used that rifle within the last few months. It was possible one of the Ables had taken it out, but Murdock couldn't figure out why. Stockwell denied that it had been removed from storage at any time.  
  
"Face probably took it. I mean, it's his gun, after all." Frankie could be maddening sometimes.  
  
"Face couldn't get it out without Stockwell knowing. And why would he? We didn't need it for any missions."  
  
"Well, maybe he thought he was going to need it for something." Frankie thought once again about the phone call from Stockwell. "Maybe Stockwell had a job for him."  
  
Murdock snorted. "Face would have told us if Stockwell had given him a solo."  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
'Maybe not.' BA had been listening to the conversation from the kitchen. Feeling guilty that he hadn't mentioned it before, BA stepped in and pulled Hannibal aside. He told him about the call Frankie had told him about just days before Face had disappeared. As he expected, Hannibal was not happy to hear about it.  
  
"I can understand you not mentioning it right away, BA, but why not after Face disappeared?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Hannibal. There was so much else goin on, I never even thought about it. I shoulda tol' ya first thing."  
  
"All right, BA, never mind. I'll have to have a talk with the good General. Now."  
  
Hannibal did not like this. Face taking off, the rifle, now this phone call business. There was something going down between Face and Stockwell, and Hannibal was going to find out what.  
  
*****  
  
He lay on his stomach. He'd been moving slowly, cautiously, across the open ground, every move slow, small. Progress measured in inches, not feet. Finally in position. He could see the encampment below him, close to the maximum range of his rifle. He could get closer, but he needed to give himself time before his pursuers could react. His targets had made it easy for him. The meeting had not taken place in the true desert area. There was enough ground cover to enhance his suit. It would make it harder for his target's followers to determine where the shot had come from. They wouldn't even hear it. All they would see is their leader falling. By the time they determined where it may have come from, he would be somewhere else.  
  
He thought about Dahwar. It would be good if he could take him out along with Nabeeh, but maybe not. He thought about Aadil's successor, too. Maybe it would be better to do him instead. That would be something to think about. Aadil, Aadil's successor, Nabeeh - all dead and only Dahwar left. What kind of credibility would that give the last of the trio? What kind of suspicions would follow? Or would it be considered holy intervention? Interesting. He'd have to consider that further...  
  
Movement below. He watched through the net covered scope. He could just make out the faces. He didn't want to waste his efforts on some nobody. There - there he was. Nabeeh. And the Successor. And Dahwar, too, off to the side. All three. Three quick shots. Could he do that? He thought he might be able to. Might. Take advantage of the shock of the first to take out the other two. He might...at least two...then it would be over. He could go home...well, get out of this Godforsaken country anyway. Yeah, it would be over.  
  
Almost.  
  
He took aim...  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell had not been to the compound in days. Not since Hannibal had confronted him about the phone call to Face. He had denied any such call, but Frankie was adamant that Face had referred to the caller as 'General'. Stockwell had practically called Frankie a liar, and stormed out.  
  
Murdock made it his mission to find out anything he could about the rifle. Find out who had taken that, and why, he reasoned, and they might be closer to finding Face. And with all Stockwell's people at the compound, one of them must know something.  
  
His first opportunity came when they came to pick up the guns for return to storage. Murdock and Frankie decided to help and, as the Ables considered them both basically harmless nuisances, indulged them. Murdock reverently carried Face's rifle out in its case and handed it the Able in charge.  
  
"We didn't clean this one," he said regretfully.  
  
"Oh?" The Able didn't really care.  
  
"No, it's Face's. He hasn't used it for seven or eight months."  
  
"Hmm?" He was trying to check off the armload of weapons Frankie had appeared with.  
  
"Seven or eight months since he used it."  
  
"Naw, he had that one," he grabbed a semiautomatic that was about to hit the ground, "about three months ago at the range...here, don't put that there!" The Able grabbed for the pistol Frankie was laying in the rifle case.  
  
Bingo.  
  
Now to find out what and where 'the range' was.  
  
Murdock went to the newer Ables for this one. He made a show of leaving the house in a huff, and stomped over to a group of four standing by the corner of the house.  
  
"Man, that Colonel can be a pain in the ass, sometimes," he growled.  
  
A couple of the men looked quizzically. The other two ignored him. Murdock focused on the first two.  
  
"Yeah, he's complaining that our marksmanship is going downhill. Thinks we oughta be practicing. Like we can do that around here!" he snorted. "That's just dumb."  
  
One of the two looked sympathetic. Great.  
  
"I mean, it's not like you guys. I bet you've got a target range all set up, right? Go out any time you want."  
  
"It's more than a target range. Whole training arena."  
  
"Really? Like what? Obstacle course, the whole thing?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. Stockwell had it designed after the military's SF training camps..."  
  
"I think we should check the perimeter - now." The oldest of the four Ables looked meaningfully at his talkative colleague and the men moved off.  
  
Hannibal had a very, very bad feeling.  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell showed up at the compound for the first time in nearly a month. He gathered the team in the living room.  
  
"Gentlemen, I have some good news for you. After conferring with my colleagues in Washington, I have been able to procure your pardons. You will be receiving them in a small ceremony at the Pentagon in two weeks. After that, you're free to go wherever you wish."  
  
The men stared at him. Where had that come from?  
  
"This is a little...sudden, isn't it, General? What gives? We haven't even been on a mission for..."  
  
"Your pardons have been paid for in full, Colonel. That's all you need to know. I don't think you really want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. There's still time before the papers are official, after all." His meaning was clear.  
  
"What about Face? He's being pardoned, too, isn't he?" Murdock was bristling, prepared to argue for his friend.  
  
"Oh, most assuredly. The sooner I can wipe that slate clean, the better." With that cryptic remark, Stockwell abruptly left.  
  
BA, Murdock, and Frankie looked at Hannibal. He shook his head.  
  
"Something stinks, guys. And we're gonna find out why."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghillie suit - Hard to describe textually, but basically a camouflage suit. http://home.swipnet.se/sniper/sniper/camoufla.htm#Ghillie%20suit


	9. Chapter 9

After Stockwell had announced their pardons, Hannibal knew without doubt it had something to do with Face. Something that required him to renew his training, brush up on his marksmanship. Something that was big, big enough to warrant the pardons. And he knew it wasn't anything good.  
  
Keeping his fears to himself, he'd started combing through the newspapers. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he'd know it when he found it. It took him several days, but he finally found something. An article about two terrorists who had been shot while at a supposedly secret meeting. It was a very short article, just a blip really. Apparently they were fairly important guys.  
  
Hannibal had thought back. There had been another terrorist...shortly after Face left. And no clues as to the shooter in that one, either. A real smooth operation.  
  
He hadn't wanted to go where logic had taken him.  
  
Hannibal had had no doubt that if Face had set out to kill those guys, he would have managed just as smoothly as this man - or men - had. The only thing was, Face would never do it. He'd never kill anyone except in self-defense, certainly not in cold blood. And the planning that had to have been involved - well, that would have been about as cold as you could get. And that just wasn't Face.  
  
And yet...there had been something about the timing. It would take a couple of months to gather the kind of intelligence one would need to set up an assassination like that. Maybe longer. Face disappears, and a couple months later, the first one gets taken out. More time goes by, say more planning time, and then its the other two. Suddenly the team gets pardoned. If Face were involved in that nightmare, it would all fit, time-wise. And it would certainly explain why he had disappeared like he had.  
  
'Bullshit. Face would never do it. It was just coincidence. Strictly coincidence.'  
  
'So why hasn't Face contacted you, smart guy? There's no reason not to now. He has to know about the pardons. They included his pardon in the notices.'  
  
'Maybe he's out of the country. Maybe he still doesn't know about them. It's only been a few weeks, after all.'  
  
'Face wouldn't contact you if he'd been involved in those deaths. Even if he hadn't directly pulled the trigger. And especially if he had.'  
  
'Bullshit. I know Face. There's no way he would do anything like that. Just no way. Not unless...'  
  
That was when it had hit Hannibal like a bomb. Not unless the team was threatened. Seriously threatened. Things had come together in crystal clarity. The sudden appearance of the extra Ables just before those 'vacations' - vacations where Stockwell knew exactly where they'd be. Face's behavior that last couple of days, starting practically the same day the Ables came on board. The talk of Face being at the training camp, shooting the sniper rifle. The heightened surveillance around them. The forced down time. And then the pardons. Announced shortly after the double killing. No explanation why. And then no word from Face even after he had to have known that he and the others were free.  
  
'Aw, Face, what did you do?'  
  
*****  
  
Face was in another hotel room. Where didn't really matter to him. He knew about the pardons - Stockwell had sent him his via courier the day after...well, after. Along with newspaper clippings about the rest of his team. He knew they had gone back to LA and he knew they would need money. He made a few calls to 'his' people and got the name of the attorney handling their affairs. A few more phone calls and everything they would need to access the team's money would be in the lawyer's hands in just a few days. Once that was taken care of, he relaxed a little. The guys didn't know how much money they actually had, how many investments he had made on their behalf. Scamming and killing weren't his only talents. They would be well taken care of.


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal stared silently out the window, lush bushes framing the view of the oceanfront. They were back in LA, in a nice but not fancy hotel. They had been given a stake by Stockwell, surprisingly; not a lot, but enough to start out with. There was a meeting set up with an attorney the following week, to see what could be done about any money they might have coming from the military. It had come down to mundane things like that - money to support themselves. Hannibal wished now he'd paid more attention to the financial end of things, not just left it to Face. He had no idea where their money was hidden. And God only knew if Face would ever come back. A thought Hannibal had kept to himself.  
  
Turning back to the room, he watched his team. BA, appearing just as angry now as if he were still under Stockwell's thumb, was engrossed in a football game on TV. He was still trying to decide if he wanted to stay with the Team or go back to Chicago. It was a harder choice to make than it would appear on the surface. He wanted to be close to his mother, and he had wanted to work with kids for as long as he could remember. But there was still the matter of Face. He couldn't walk out on the Team until he was found. He didn't believe that story of the girlfriend for one minute. Never had. Face just wouldn't do that. So now they were going to look for him. The problem with that was they didn't have a lot of money right now. They would have to find some paying clients, get the money coming in, before they could look very far. And more delay meant it would be even harder to track him down. The frustration was almost physical.  
  
Murdock was reading through the papers. Not just one - every major paper sold in LA. Every morning he was the first out the door, going to several newsstands to make sure he got every edition. Then he would spend hours checking the personal ads. He knew Face would have something in there soon. Now that the pardons were public knowledge, he would get in touch. He would find them, or let them know where to find him. Murdock had placed his own ads as well, even though Hannibal thought it was unnecessary. They didn't have to work underground any more. But Murdock wasn't taking any chances. He was also contacting all their old clients, and Face's old girlfriends. As many as he could find, anyway. He'd tried to file a missing persons report with the police and had just gotten laughed at. 'Fuck them, anyway.'  
  
Frankie wasn't there. He'd headed back to LA with them, and almost immediately split. He'd never felt like a real member of the team, especially since the pardons. That had placed a whole new focus on finding Face, and Frankie knew he wouldn't really be expected to stay on with them. But he had kept in touch, waiting to hear about Face. They were all waiting.  
  
"God, Face, just come home..."  
  
*****  
  
He was so tired of airplanes. He felt like he'd been living in them or airports for the last month. Always moving, never stopping for more than a day anywhere. Kill a man, see the world. He grimaced as he lugged his carryall up to the desk. This was it, anyway. The last leg. Tomorrow he'd be back in LA. After that, he had his own plans.  
  
He handed over his passport. This was always dicey. He still didn't trust Stockwell and the passport came from him. It had worked so far, but he hadn't gone into the US yet. He knew it was the General's way of keeping track of him. That was okay. Let him. Once he hit LA, he'd disappear. Rest up. Plan. Stockwell wouldn't know what hit him.  
  
"There you go, Mr. Booth. Have a pleasant trip," purred the ticket clerk.  
  
He nodded and moved on. 'Mr. Booth'. Actually 'Mr. Oswald Booth'. Stockwell had a sick sense of humor.  
  
Not for long...


	11. Chapter 11

PART TWO  
  
Some men are alive simply because it is against the law to kill them. -- Edward W. Howe  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
"So you see, gentlemen, with everything Mr. Peck has enclosed here, you really don't need to go after the military for anything. I'm talking myself out of a job here, but with no guarantees of winning a suit, there's really no payback in taking it any further. Not under these circumstances."  
  
Hannibal, BA, and Murdock sat like three stones. The attorney, with help from a CPA friend of his, had gone over with them every scrap of paper that had arrived in the package that morning. And it was overwhelming. Face had invested money in clients' businesses, in stocks, bonds, overseas investments, real estate - how on earth had he managed to keep track of it all? Not only was there money for their retirements, but enough available capital to put them back in business. Which, up to this point, had first meant finding their teammate. But there had been one envelope left. The attorney had been instructed to give this to them last. Two simple words on a piece of otherwise blank paper.  
  
"Stop looking."  
  
And their world was blown apart.  
  
*****  
  
He stood outside the LAX terminal, waiting for a cab. It was warm today, and he adjusted his gloves with irritation. All he wanted was a quick cab, a shower and more than a few drinks. And sleep. God, how he needed sleep. First item on his 'need to' list, however, was a place to live. Next a vehicle, and some new clothes.  
  
Several hours later he had fulfilled most of his list. He was halfway through a bottle of good Scotch, lounging in the hotel's furnished robe, hair still damp from the scalding hot shower. He had not registered under 'Oswald Booth'. In fact, he had walked five blocks from the hotel the cabbie had let him out at to another, less luxurious place. He was now 'James Carlton', businessman on a working holiday. Tomorrow, who knew?  
  
He'd been out of the area for too long; it took a little more effort to get accommodations under the usual conditions, but it worked out well enough. He'd be moving into a nice secluded place on the beach to relax at for a few weeks, until Stockwell was just a bit nervous. He chuckled bitterly. He wanted Stockwell really nervous. He hadn't spent all his time overseas only checking up on terrorists. He'd done some homework of his own. Useful, having "his" people just give him whatever he asked for. He knew a few things Stockwell really wouldn't want him to. He'd have a fucking cow if he knew. Which, of course, he would, soon. He'd made one last stop before returning to his hotel. At the post office he'd mailed a small package for Stockwell at an address no one was supposed to know about.  
  
There were some people even Stockwell shouldn't push too far...  
  
*****  
  
Murdock glared at the stack of newspapers in the corner. All this time, watching and waiting for word from Face, running from newsstand to newsstand like some crazy man. Yeah, he had been crazy. He'd lost himself in his desperation to find his friend, his brother, his teammate. And all this time, Face knew he'd been looking. And he hadn't come to him, until now, like this, to tell him to stop. He didn't want to be found. He didn't want the team. He didn't want Murdock. Why?  
  
There was something Hannibal knew but wasn't telling them. He could tell by his eyes. There was a coldness in them, but there was hurt, too. Like he'd been expecting Face to tell them to fuck off, but was surprised when he really did. But why? There had to be a reason.  
  
BA sat, watching yet another football game. Or at least, he was staring at the television. He could leave now. Just get the van, throw his stuff in and head back to Chicago. See his mama, get his youth center going, be normal. With the money Face had set up for them, he could have a real nice life now. Fix up a real good place for the kids to come to. Yeah. Nice house for Mama, too. Get her out of that apartment. Thanks to Face.  
  
Face. What the hell was he doing? Why didn't he want to come home, back to the Team? Man, it just didn't figure. He could understand it if they were still at Langley. But man, they were free now! And Hannibal. Hannibal knew why. He just wasn't talking. And that wasn't right, either. Him and Murdock, they had a right to know if something was wrong. And loud as Chicago was calling, there was no going back there if there was something bad going down with Face. No way.  
  
Hannibal slowly and methodically lit his cigar, sitting on the patio. A light breeze was blowing off the ocean and felt good on his face. He had a lot to think about now. A lot of decisions to make. The first was whether or not to talk to BA and Murdock, tell them what he had figured out about Face. No, that really wasn't a decision. He knew now that he had to tell them. They would believe it now, as surely as he did. It would be the only reason for Face to have acted as he did.  
  
Oh, God. He was tired. Down to the bones tired. He really did understand why Face had made the decisions he had. He knew the man too well to think he would have acted in any other manner. It was the actual killings he couldn't accept. This was not the man he knew. Or if it was, then Face was surely going through a horrific sort of hell right now.  
  
He should have forced Face to talk to him back at Langley. He should have known that, had there actually been a woman that important to him, he would have been talking about her long before that. He should have known then those vacations were a setup, with all those extra goons around. A way to get the rest of them out of the way long enough to immerse Face in that malicious craziness over there.  
  
He had to wonder what Face would be thinking, afterwards. It wouldn't be pretty. With his upbringing, that promise the team made, being alone...shit, kid, why didn't you come to me first? Damn, damn, damn.  
  
What really worried him now was what Face was going to do next. He knew Stockwell had to be involved. But would Face be with him - or against him? And what was Hannibal going to do about it?  
  
He stepped back into the hotel room, feeling four eyes staring at him.  
  
"It's time to talk, fellas."


	12. Chapter 12

When he awoke that morning, it was to the accompaniment of myriad bells and buzzers ringing in his head. The room swung dangerously and he groaned softly, cursing the Scotch he'd so lovingly imbibed the night before. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol while overseas and his body was screaming loudly in protest at his sudden immersion.  
  
"Shit."  
  
He managed to get himself out of bed, clinging desperately to the walls on the way to the shower. He berated himself all the way there. What if Stockwell had decided this was the time to 'reconnect' with his errant assassin? That rebuke, and the steaming shower, sobered him almost immediately. Catching sight of himself in the mirror did the rest. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen and the beard, grown long over the past month, was wild. He carefully considered his beard. He really didn't care for the looks of it, but with the deep tan still in place, he'd look like a clown if he shaved it now. He was thoughtfully smoothing it when he suddenly stopped moving.  
  
Damn.  
  
Those fucking hands. He'd been so careful to keep them out of sight. Only in the shower, or at night after the lights were off, were they allowed out of the gloves. But he'd forgotten this morning. The damn booze. God, look at them. Smirking at him. Making a game of it. So handsome on the outside, so ugly underneath. He wanted to expose them for what they really were. Show everyone the ugliness, the twisted deformities that were there under that facade of grace. But he knew he still needed these bloody hands. He needed to keep them safe for now. Until this was over. And they knew it, too, and so they mocked him. All the time, mocking him. Knowing him...  
  
He ran to the bedroom and yanked on the gloves. And heaved a sigh of relief...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal slowly came out of a deep sleep. He had been exhausted after yesterday's revelations. He did not want to get up. He did not want to face BA's simmering anger or Murdock's nearly uncontrollable outrage. Damn, the two of them had been ready to catch the first flight for DC to wring Stockwell's neck. He'd finally had it himself.  
  
'Enough, damn it! As if we don't have enough to deal with, trying to find Face when he doesn't want to be found, now I have to add you two to the problem?'  
  
He remembered the shouting. And he remembered their sudden and sullen silence. And he remembered three tired men wandering off to bed, to nurse their wounds.  
  
No sense putting off the inevitable. He pulled himself from the bed and hobbled into the kitchenette, not bothering to shower or dress. Time enough for that later. Right now, he wanted a quiet cup of coffee before the others got up.  
  
Murdock heard Hannibal messing with the coffee maker.  
  
'We really need to find a permanent place to live, where the walls aren't paper thin. Face can scam us one, a real nice one, like he used to. After we find him. After we put him back together again. Just like Humpty Dumpty.'  
  
Then he got the giggles, picturing his friend as the Great Egg. And the giggles got harder and then became sobs and Murdock pulled the covers over his head and hid.  
  
BA wasn't even in the hotel room. Or the hotel. He was in the garage, sitting in his van, idly turning the knobs on the radio. There were an awful lot of radio stations in LA. None of them came in very clear in the garage though. Just as well. He really didn't want to listen to any music, and he definitely didn't want to listen to the news. What he really wanted to do was turn back the clock a few months and not dismiss Frankie's question to him about why Stockwell would call Face instead of Hannibal. And he wanted to know that the others wouldn't blame him for it.  
  
And he wanted, more than anything, for Face not to have shot those three people.  
  
*****  
  
The boxes he'd called about yesterday arrived at his new house that afternoon. Carefully he opened them, eyes gleaming as he took each piece out. The barrel, wrapped carefully to avoid warping or marring. The stock, gloved in soft cloth. The scope, oh so carefully packaged to prevent scratches or dents. Perfect. Stockwell hadn't thought about collecting that last rifle. Hadn't mattered to him then. It would now. Oh yeah, the General would start thinking about it now, knowing it was for him. Hoisted on his own petard, so to speak.  
  
He stepped out onto the deck, carrying his coffee. It was time to start making definitive plans for Stockwell. He wanted the General to know what was going to happen. He had thought for a while that showing his hand so early would allow the bastard to sink out of sight. But by way of the little gift, delivered to that particular address, he'd challenged him. Who would get the other first? It really wasn't much of a gift - a small stone elephant.   
  
'But it has sentiment, you know.' He grinned. 'I know where you live, Stockwell. I know where you hide. And you know I'm going to come for you, don't you, you bastard..."  
  
He should feel terrible about what he was planning. This wasn't self-defense. This wasn't protecting The Colonel or The Pilot or The Mechanic or anyone. This was vengeance. Pure and simple. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith the assassin." He wanted to laugh. He had the edge now. Sharp, sharp edge. Or maybe he'd just fucking gone over it. A body to fill The Pilot's old room. He didn't care. He really didn't care. Because now it was just him. And Stockwell.  
  
This time he laughed out loud. The Jazz was on, and it was good.  
  
*****  
  
"So what do we do now, Colonel?"  
  
"First thing we're going to do is track down the delivery service that Face used. See what name he used. He may or may not use the same name to scam a place to live, but my guess is he will, at least at first. It'll be easier for him to deal with things if he just maintains one identity. Even if it just leads to the hotel where he was, it's a start. "  
  
"He's got plenty to deal with, all right." Murdock was still fluctuating between calm and hysterics. He understood, better than any of them, where Face was emotionally right now. And it scared him.  
  
Hannibal hesitated. He didn't want to bring this up, but they all knew it was something they would have to do.  
  
"We also have to start checking the hospitals, police stations, shelters...the morgue. Look for anyone that's come in in the last four to five days. Remember that until we find where he was staying, we won't know what he looks like, exactly. Obviously he wouldn't have been able to...succeed over there...looking like himself. My guess is he hasn't changed his looks yet."  
  
"Why not, Hannibal? I'd'a wanted to git back to myself as quick as I could."  
  
"For one thing, he doesn't want us looking for him, and he knows his changed appearance is going to hinder us there."  
  
Now came touchy ground. Hannibal had thought long and hard about what Face's next steps would be, what his plans were. Based on his actions toward the Team, he had come to an unwelcome conclusion.  
  
"I also don't think he's finished his 'mission' yet, BA. I think he has something left to do and until he does it, he's going to stay 'in character'. "  
  
"What the hell else could he need to do? Three bodies isn't enough?!" 'God, don't go there, Hannibal,' Murdock begged with his eyes. 'Face is just hiding somewhere and we just gotta find him. That's all. He's not dangerous, Hannibal. He's not. He's not.'  
  
"I think Face is going to go after Stockwell. Which is why we need to find the General first."  
  
*****  
  
What had happened yesterday? Something had gone wrong and he didn't quite understand what. He was so off-balance. The Scotch. That must have been it. He shouldn't have gotten drunk. Then yesterday would have gone smoothly, like it was supposed to. The morning was fuzzy to him. Something about his beard. And he remembered the rifle arriving. And he remembered taking it out, and cleaning it up. And then something had happened. Like his brain was on fire. And now it was morning again. He'd lost most of a day. Just lost it. How did that happen?  
  
He wondered if that was what The Pilot had gone through all those years ago. He didn't like it. He needed to stay on top of things. He couldn't let it get away from him any more. He knew it had happened a few times after...that things had happened and he didn't want them to but they happened anyway. He would wake up and find something broken or the hotel room trashed. At one of the airports - he didn't even remember which one - he'd awakened to find the people around him suddenly moving away, looking at him, nervous-like. He knew he didn't have the gloves then. He hadn't discovered that until Switzerland. It had just been natural to put them on when he went out that day, and suddenly he felt in control again. He hadn't taken them off since. Except yesterday. He remembered that now. That's why he'd gotten screwed up.  
  
It was their fault...


	13. Chapter 13

He'd been back in the States three weeks. Nothing from Stockwell, but then he hadn't expected anything yet. He knew the General was looking for him. But it was preliminary - Stockwell wouldn't make any kind of move until he had things all laid out. His quarry, however, had other plans.  
  
LAX again. Straight flight to Denver. Next flight back. Courier. That's what he was today. Delivering a package. Sort of.  
  
At Denver, he hailed a cab and headed downtown. Gave the cabbie an address, and then left him several blocks before his stop. Walked. First west, then north, then west again. Double-backed. East.  
  
Caught another cab and went to a branch post office. Mailed his package. Different address this time. Another one Stockwell thought no one knew about. The General had a lot of those.  
  
'But I know them all, buddy.'  
  
Stockwell was getting a model airplane this time.  
  
He slept on the flight back to LA, peacefully.  
  
*****  
  
"So how do we find Stockwell? He's not exactly listed in the white pages."  
  
"We won't have to find Stockwell. We find Carla. She'll bring him to us." Hannibal grinned.  
  
"How do you know he'll come? He wasn't exactly shedding tears when we left. And I don't think he's gonna want to help us find Face."  
  
"Actually, Captain, I think he'll definitely want to help us out there. Just not for the same reasons. If I know Face - 'and maybe I don't anymore' - he's already been baiting Stockwell. And Stockwell is not someone who's going to let a challenge go unanswered. Personal as well as professional pride won't let him. We'll have a little talk with our dear General, see what we can find out from him. Even if he doesn't want to help, we need to be close by. Very close."  
  
Murdock didn't need it spelled out for him. If Face got within shooting distance of Stockwell, it was all over. And he didn't want to think about what could happen after that. Stockwell would have shadows like he'd never dreamed about.  
  
"So, we need to get back to Langley. The sooner the better. BA..."  
  
"I ain't flying, Hannibal."  
  
"No, you're going to stay right here." Hannibal had to deal with a difficult situation now. He really needed BA's brawn in Langley, in case of trouble with Stockwell's people. And Murdock would be much more comfortable than BA handling things in LA. But he was well aware that Murdock's control was at low ebb. He wanted someone close at hand in case the pilot ran into real difficulties. "We need someone here to go back and talk to the hotel clerk again, get a better description of 'Mr. Carlton'. Check rental cars, apartment agents, the works. I've got an appointment this afternoon with our lawyer's CPA friend, too. Face's money was tied in with ours, so we have a little hope of him finding a paper trail. I want you working with him on that. I'm also going to plant some ads in the personals. In Langley."  
  
"Face isn't going to answer any of our ads, Hannibal."  
  
"No, but he might answer one of Stockwell's..."  
  
*****  
  
A tiny string of glue trailed from the green plastic and then snapped, leaving a minuscule ball at the joint. A breath of air hit it, solidifying it. With a sigh of satisfaction, Stockwell carefully lifted the completed model airplane and lay it to rest on the glass shelf, next to a little stone elephant. He smiled.  
  
A knock at his door interrupted his reverie. Carla strode through.  
  
"General post office in downtown Denver, General. Packaging material common stock, no distinguishing serial numbers or other markings on the model itself."  
  
"Very well, Carla, we didn't really expect any."  
  
"He's getting closer, General."  
  
"I know, Carla, I know. And he wants us to know that. It's part of his strategy. Just like finding those addresses."  
  
"What do you want to do about that?"  
  
"The usual. Find out who gave out that information and get rid of them. He's not going to tell anyone else about them. And once he gets here, it'll be a moot point."  
  
Carla wished she could be as calm about this as Stockwell. Peck could cause serious damage to the organization if he knew as much as she thought he did. Leave it to this con man to find loopholes in their security system. He never should have been given the amount of access he had while over there. Who knew what other information he had gleaned from their collaborators.  
  
"Don't worry so much, Carla. I know Peck, and I knew if he survived over there that he would be coming for me. You don't think I planned for that contingency?"  
  
"Of course, General. Everything will work out."  
  
"Yes, it will." Stockwell nodded to his assistant, dismissing her. Closing the door behind her, Carla noted that Stockwell thought her concern was for him. Conceited jerk.  
  
He stared at the model airplane, the elephant.  
  
"I'm waiting, Lieutenant." He wasn't smiling.  
  
*****  
  
He wandered down the beach, watching the gulls wheeling above him, the waves rolling in, soaking the cuffs of his trousers, occasionally reaching up to his knees. He loved the beach, the ocean. If things had been different, long ago, he could've ended up a beach bum, surfing around the world, living off pretty girls and rich sponsors. Yeah, right. Didn't matter now anyway. It would be nice, though, to just live on the beach. No more scams, no more missions, no more...just let life go by until it drifted away completely...  
  
In a few days, he needed to make another trip. He'd liked to have taken care of it already, but he didn't want to rush things. The timing was important.  
  
Did Stockwell know what he was trying to do? Probably. The man wasn't stupid. Was he getting nervous? Probably. He would be staying cool, though, acting as if everything were under his control. That's what Stockwell did. That was his persona. It was going to be interesting to see his face when the bullet first hit. What would happen to the control then?  
  
Idly, he wondered about Stockwell's associates in that whole affair. He figured they were basically his counterparts from other countries. Scary thought, that there might be other Stockwell's scattered around the world. Or maybe they were government types. That would be more likely, considering they let Stockwell take over and run the game. Let him do their dirty work. No, let him find the guy to do their dirty work.  
  
His right hand was itching. Sweating inside the glove. He shoved it further into his pocket. No you don't, bud. You're staying right where you belong...I'm in control now.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hello, Carla. Nice seeing you again."  
  
Carla was not happy to find Hannibal and Murdock sitting in her living room. She was even less happy to see Hannibal waving a smoking cigar as he grinned at her. Murdock on the other hand was not grinning at all. Just looking. He had a vacant stare, and yet there was a defined anger creeping behind it. She didn't know which one of them upset her more.  
  
"Colonel, put out that cigar. Then you can explain to me what the hell you're doing in my house!!"  
  
Hannibal casually stretched his arm over to a ficus and slowly and deliberately stubbed the cigar out in the dirt. Leaving the butt in the pot, he stared at Carla with a challenge.  
  
"We need to see Stockwell. Now."  
  
"If you're looking for Peck, he's not here. And we don't know where he is."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. He had thoroughly enjoyed her consternation at their appearance, but now it was time to get down to business. "We need to talk to Stockwell. We know where Face was and what he was doing. None of us have time for playing games. Now call him."  
  
There was something in Hannibal's tone that made Carla move immediately to the telephone.  
  
*****  
  
BA had finished up with the hotel clerk, and was now heading over for a meeting with the CPA. He had a pretty good description now - somehow the clerk had managed to remember several small details that she hadn't before. He couldn't figure out the glove thing, though.  
  
The CPA was also very helpful. Because Face had included his information in the packet, it hadn't taken long to find various transactions that provided good leads. If Face noticed inquiry information on his accounts, it might be bad, but Hannibal had figured he would be too involved in other things to be looking too closely.  
  
"There's more that could be found, but I'm afraid it would be illegal for me to do that. You understand, don't you?"  
  
"Sure, man, no problem." BA knew a few people himself. Ones that he knew couldn't be trusted around other people but, because they knew better, would be totally honest with BA and his friends. He took the information the CPA had found and headed back to the hotel. He needed to check in with Hannibal.  
  
*****  
  
The air conditioner in the small motel room didn't work. Houston was a humid 86 degrees and his room was like an oven. If he hadn't purchased his plane ticket at the last moment, he might have been able to get a return flight the same day. But he wouldn't make reservations for these trips; no paper trail back to LA. He wanted Stockwell to think he was actually staying in the cities he mailed his little gifts from.  
  
He had considered calling the hotel manager about the problem, but decided he didn't want to call any attention to himself. He'd taken a couple of cold showers but it hadn't helped much. He'd tried walking, but it was almost as bad outside as in. There was no escaping it. In the end, he gave up and flopped down on top of the bed. Reaching over, he turned out the light and removed his gloves, laying them carefully on the night stand, ready to go on as soon as he awoke.  
  
In the parking lot, several young men stood around their cars, smoking, drinking, eyeing the vehicles in the lot. They watched carefully as the lights went off in each of the motel room windows. They grinned darkly at each other. Time for some fun...  
  
He woke up, alert. Someone was working the lock on his door. Stockwell? It couldn't be. Could it? He waited, tensing, seeing the silhouette of the intruder as he slipped through the opening door. Then another similar shadow. How many were there, for God's sake? Quietly he sat up, ready. Without thinking, he reached over and flipped on the light. And all hell broke loose.  
  
*****  
  
"And here's one for goofiest arrests category..."  
  
BA smiled. He liked hearing this radio talk show. They always picked up on strange things that happened around the country. And some of the arrests were really strange.  
  
"It appears that a man was driven temporarily insane by the heat in Houston late last night. He was staying at a motel whose air conditioning broke down and he proceeded to totally destroy his room, as well as attacking some late night party goers. Police say furniture was tossed through windows, and every mirror in the place was smashed. Several other persons received undisclosed injuries. When police arrested the man, he begged them to let him put on - get this, in 80 plus heat - begged them to let him put on his GLOVES. Thinking this would calm the agitated man down, they did so - only to have him unlock his handcuffs and the squad car door and escape moments later. Can you believe it? Police are still looking for the guy, who is described as..."  
  
The description could have fit any number of guys, and he had no indication that Face was anywhere but LA, but when he heard about handcuffs and the gloves it sent chills up his spine. He would put in another call to Hannibal.  
  
*****  
  
He knew it must have happened again. He woke up in a parking lot, behind a dumpster. He remembered going to bed. Vaguely, he remembered a door opening, uniforms and flashing red lights. God, what had he done now? He'd been so careful, so in control. He stood up slowly, looking around. Did he have his wallet? Thank God it was in his back pocket. Whatever involvement he'd had with the police, they hadn't gotten around to taking his personal affects. He tried to remember more of what happened, but it wouldn't come back to him. He was beginning to worry that these incidents would thwart his mission. That couldn't be allowed. He had to finish this. The guilty had to be brought to justice. All of them. He couldn't rest until that was done. And he wanted to rest.  
  
He stood carefully, brushing himself off. He needed to find someplace to stay until he knew how badly the police wanted him...  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell had agreed to meet with them, but put them off for another three days. Hannibal wasn't happy; he knew Stockwell wasn't just pulling a power play. He and Murdock immediately changed motels, watching for anyone following. They didn't forget who they were dealing with. Or what he had to lose.  
  
He had spoken with BA every day since leaving LA. He was as puzzled by the gloves as BA had been. He'd also given BA the go-ahead to get his 'friends' working on Face's paper trail. He wasn't happy about it, but they needed that information and they needed it now.  
  
When BA had told him about the incident in Houston, Hannibal was skeptical. It was probably just some poor nut case that couldn't take the heat, as the police surmised. But BA was not so easily put off.  
  
"There's something there, Hannibal. I mean, this guy got out of handcuffs and a police car. How many guys can do that? And then the gloves too? That hotel clerk said Face even signed in wearing those gloves, and when I went back and talked to the bellhops and room service people, they said the same thing. The maid said he had them on first thing in the morning."  
  
"Okay, BA, okay. I know it sounds too coincidental. But the guy down in Houston - from the way you describe his behavior, there's no way he's anywhere near functional. If that were Face, it would mean he'd have to have gotten from LA to Houston, and this other guy would never have been able to do that. I'd like to believe we'd found him, BA, but it just doesn't sound plausible."  
  
'I don't want it to be Face,' he thought.  
  
Murdock was of another mind. When he had heard about the gloves at the hotel, he had an inkling of what might be going on. Never having lived in a psychiatric ward, BA and Hannibal would not have immediately caught the implications. When Hannibal told him about Houston, Murdock was convinced.  
  
"It's Face, Hannibal. I know it is."  
  
Hannibal started to repeat what he had told BA, but Murdock would have none of it.  
  
"I don't care what he was like at that time, Hannibal. It doesn't mean he's like that ALL the time. It's gotta have something to do with that glove thing. Remember, BA said the guy was begging the cops to let him put his gloves on. And right after they let him, he suddenly has it together enough to escape? It's gotta be him, Colonel."  
  
"All right, Murdock. Let me see what I can find out about it, okay? I won't rule it out - but I'm not racing down to Houston to look for him, either. Not yet."


	15. Chapter 15

"Carla really needs a refresher course, Hannibal. She's just not paying attention like she should."  
  
Hannibal chuckled, nodding his head. They had been behind the assistant's car for the last 40 minutes, picking her up three blocks from her house. She had, indeed, driven in a circumspect manner for the first fifteen minutes, attempting to lose anyone who might be following her. Now, however, it was obvious she was driving directly to her destination. Hannibal hoped it was Stockwell and not her hairdresser.  
  
She came to a stop in front of small suburban house and hurried inside. Her followers parked two blocks away, puzzled. Before Murdock could turn off the engine, Carla was on her way back out, a small package in her hand. She looked harried. She pulled out, heading for downtown DC. Finally she pulled into a parking garage beneath a nondescript office building. Hannibal and Murdock pulled in quickly behind her.  
  
"Hi, Carla. Fancy meeting you here." Hannibal grinned like a Cheshire cat. "How about we help you with your package there and while we're at it, we'll just stop in and say a quick hi to your boss? I know we're a couple days early for our appointment, but I'm sure he won't mind."  
  
"There are security cameras, Colonel Smith. You won't be surprising anyone."  
  
"Not to worry, Carla. We have a few little gadgets of our own - just for protection, of course." Murdock adjusted his hand in his jacket pocket. "Shall we go?"  
  
The trio moved toward the elevators.  
  
*****  
  
He had taken a bus. Several busses. He wasn't sure where he was going yet, but he needed to be moving and figured he was pretty much hidden on a bus. Eventually he found himself in the town of La Porte. At least it was closer to the ocean than Houston had been.  
  
He found another small motel, and made sure the air was working. It was also closer to the main thoroughfare, ensuring a bit more security. He had picked up several newspapers in Houston, and also in La Porte. Only a couple quick snippets about the incident. Nothing on the local news. He decided he would stay three or four days and then make his way home again. He called the airport, canceling his return flight. He would get another flight under another name when he was ready.  
  
He wandered out to the beach and sat. And waited.  
  
*****  
  
"Good morning, Smith, Captain, Carla..." His eyes held a moment longer on his assistant than the others, and she grimaced in her head. It would not be pleasant after Smith and the captain left.  
  
Stockwell eyed the package that Murdock was holding. "I believe that belongs to me, captain, if you don't mind."  
  
"No problem, General. Knock yourself out." Murdock tossed the box to Stockwell. "Go ahead, General, open her right up. Don't mind us." Murdock had already carefully perused the box, noting the postmark. His heart had nearly leaped out of his chest, but he had maintained a nonchalant posture. He'd caught Hannibal's eye, mouthing the word 'Houston'. He would have liked to have opened it but he was a little apprehensive as to what Stockwell would be receiving from Face.  
  
Stockwell didn't seem inclined to open the box himself, but decided there was no point in arguing about it. So far nothing dangerous had been received. He tore the wrapping carefully, for study later. Opening the top, he carefully pulled out a small toy van, black. Without saying a word, he reached back and placed it on the shelf next to the model airplane and stone elephant.  
  
"Quite a little collection you have there, General." Hannibal stepped closer, yet another grin hitting his face. Face hadn't lost his finesse. "Fan mail?"  
  
"Not quite. More like a disgruntled employee."  
  
There was a steely glint in the Colonel's eye as he turned back to Stockwell. "Yeah, good help is hard to find. We thought you might have some ideas for us. We're looking for a real hot shot."  
  
Stockwell sighed. "All right, Colonel. You told Carla you knew what Peck was up to overseas. What you think happened and what can be proven are two different things. I guarantee that you do not want to make that an issue - not now, not in the future. Not if you don't want your lieutenant to be on the receiving end of a very sharp needle."  
  
"We haven't forgotten how to survive on the run, General. However, you might find it a little hard to live with."  
  
"You want Peck back. I want him out of my hair. I assume you're planning on a cooperative effort. I, however, don't feel that need. I have resources at my disposal which negates any possible help you could offer."  
  
"Those resources can keep you breathing, General?" Murdock was totally innocent. "I'll bet that's what three guys over in the desert thought, too."  
  
"I think this meeting is over. These gentlemen will escort you out." Three very large Ables appeared in the doorway. "Good day, Colonel, Captain. Nice to see you again."  
  
Neither man said anything on their way back to the motel. Once in the door, they stared at each other for mere seconds.  
  
"Get packed, Captain. We're going to Houston."  
  
*****  
  
Acting on Hannibal's instructions, BA had gone yet again to the hotel. This time he brought a young art student with him and a copy of Face's picture. With some 'persuasion', the harassed clerk worked with the student to transform the picture from Face to the killer. The other hotel employees verified that this was Mr. Carlton. The picture would be faxed to Hannibal's hotel.  
  
"Do you want me to come down there, Hannibal? I can be there in a couple of days."  
  
"No, BA, you keep working with your friends. We still have no idea where in Houston he might be. There's no guarantee Face will even be there - he may already have moved on. We need to see if we can track him down through his accounts."  
  
"Okay, Hannibal. Good luck."  
  
*****  
  
He wasn't happy. Forced down time. He had things he needed to be doing. Sure, he ran on the beach every day, worked out in his room. But he had to keep on top of Stockwell, and he couldn't do that from a motel room. He was also starting to worry a bit about the other men. He thought they might still be looking for him. He wasn't sure. It depended on whether or not they had connected him with...that. It was a long shot. Then again, he still didn't know what Stockwell had told them. If they knew, would they still look for him? No, they couldn't. They could forgive him almost anything but not murder.  
  
He had called the Houston police department, claiming to be a possible relative of the man involved in the motel fiasco. He had gotten a few more details of the incident, and learned that they were not putting a great deal of effort into their search. He had reassured them that the man tended to wander back home and if he had indeed been involved, restitution would be made. The so-called partygoers had declined to press charges.  
  
Learning the details of the brawl had not been comforting to him. He wanted to know what had happened, but the picture presented was that of a mad man. That's not me, he thought. I am in control. I have to be. Once again, he vowed to himself ever tighter vigilance over his enemies. He would not screw up because of them again.  
  
*****  
  
Once Hannibal and Murdock were settled in their hotel, they had BA fax Face's adjusted picture to them. They took it to the police department. Claiming to be Face's father and brother, they asked to talk to the patrolmen who had answered the call. They showed the picture to the officers, who agreed that this was the man at the motel. They were allowed to read the police report, and gave the officers their number at the hotel, in case.  
  
"Funny, this guy seems pretty popular. We had a call yesterday from some guy, thinking it might be his brother, too."  
  
"Really? Did he leave a name or number to call?"  
  
"Said his name was Carlton. No phone number, though. Said he was on the road. Know him?"  
  
"No," Murdock responded. "That guy, we don't know."  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was discouraged, and it showed in his face. He had hoped they would find some sort of lead at the police department; instead they had the description of a man gone wild, a Jekyll and Hyde who was totally out of control one minute, cunning and clever the next. He wasn't really sure he wanted to go Face's motel and see the scene of the crime up front and personal. But Hannibal thought Face may have left something behind in the confusion, and inadvertently help them locate him.  
  
They pulled in to the parking lot and stopped in front of the manager's office.  
  
"Yessir, can I help you?"  
  
Hannibal handed the picture of Face to the man. "Do you recognize this man?"  
  
Without hesitation, the manager identified Face as being the man who had destroyed his room. Before he could begin a litany of how unfair life was to him, Hannibal told him that he was the man's father, and was willing to make restitution, but they wanted to see the room for themselves and collect any belongings the man had left behind.  
  
At the thought of recompense, the manager brightened considerably.  
  
"The cops told me to lock it up and not touch anything, but seeing's you're related, I don't see any problem. You'll want to see for yourselves anyway what it's likely to cost." He paused for a moment and added softly, "I hope you find your son, sir. He needs help, that's for sure."  
  
Hannibal just nodded and strode out the door, followed closely by Murdock.  
  
The first thing they saw as they approached Face's room was the boarded up picture window. Tiny bits of glass still glittered on the asphalt in front of it. Neither man really wanted to go any further, but if Face had left anything they had to find it.  
  
The door didn't actually swing open, it was more a slow shift in position, hinges slightly bent. There was much more glass inside, and their feet crunched with each step. A broken chair sat precariously balanced on its back beneath the window; two corners sported decimated lamps; the bed was sitting akilter, mattress upended against the wall, bedding scattered. While the heavy dresser was still intact, the large mirror above it was a frame only; millions of Hannibals and Murdocks stared at its remains on the floor. The bathroom had been totally destroyed. Again, the mirrors were shattered. The entire room was totaled.  
  
"Dear God in Heaven." Murdock paled.  
  
Hannibal sighed, a weight so heavy on his shoulders he could hardly bear it. "Okay, Captain, let's get to work. See if there's anything here we can use. Just be careful."  
  
Murdock started with the dresser, pulling each drawer out, checking sides and bottoms. Hannibal opened the closet. The first thing he saw was an overnight bag. Inside were a few articles of clothing, and sundry other items one might take for a short trip, but nothing that indicated ownership or destination. The police had obviously looked through it already. He shoved it aside and looked further into the closet. There, shoved back into the corner, was a black trench coat. Hannibal quickly started checking the pockets.  
  
"Murdock - got it!"  
  
The pilot leaped over the debris to get to Hannibal, who was triumphantly holding a rumpled airline magazine. Printed boldly on the front was the logo for the airline it had come from. And tucked inside was a boarding pass, dated four days earlier.  
  
*****  
  
He had to get out of Texas. He had called the Houston police department again that morning to see if there was any news about the Mad Man and learned that two men had been in the day before looking for the same man. They claimed to be his father and brother. The news shook him, badly, particularly after he asked the officer to describe them.  
  
It had to be The Colonel and The Pilot. How had they traced him here? He knew the incident had been in the local news, but only briefly. Where had he slipped? Had it been Stockwell's people, he wouldn't have been surprised. But this meant he had made a mistake. He had not covered his tracks somewhere. It put his mission in jeopardy. He knew they would try to stop him.  
  
He called the airline for the next flight to LA.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and Murdock were not having much luck with the airline. It was against policy to release passenger information. While they were unable to learn under what name Face was traveling, they finally were able to convince the clerk to tell them one thing - he had canceled his return flight and had not purchased another ticket as yet.  
  
They headed back to their hotel and put a call in to BA. BA, in turn, contacted his friends.  
  
"We need to look for any transfers between his accounts, or to another account, in the last four days, right up through today. And we need it fast."  
  
Two hours later, he got the call. A transfer had been made that day, to the account of a Maxwell Sandler. Address of Mr. Sandler - care of First Republican Bank, Houston.  
  
Hannibal, as 'Mr. Sandler', called the airline, apologizing profusely for his forgetfulness, and the bemused clerk informed him that his flight for LA was to leave at 7:30 that night.  
  
*****  
  
He didn't have much to pack. He'd had to pick up the essentials. He went over the motel room thoroughly, making sure there was nothing of him left there.  
  
He took one last look around, closed the door, and headed for the beach. One last walk before starting his trek home.  
  
*****  
  
The rumpled traveler was dozing in the chair of the airport lounge. The boarding gate was close enough for him to hear the conversations of the passengers with the clerk. He opened his steel blue eyes enough to watch the janitor slowly sweeping his way around the floor, paying no attention to the people milling around him. Their eyes connected briefly. The janitor shook his head very slightly.  
  
"Last boarding call for Flight 732 to Los Angeles. All passengers for Flight 732, Los Angeles, please come to the boarding gate."  
  
A bearded man rushed forward, identifying himself as Maxwell Sandler. The dozing man moved with amazing speed, suddenly standing beside the late arrival, grasping his arm firmly. The janitor was immediately at the passenger's other side.  
  
"Okay, Face, just take it easy, we're..." Hannibal stopped.  
  
The man whose arm he had grasped looked straight at him, green eyes staring.  
  
"Colonel Smith?" the stranger inquired.  
  
Hannibal nodded, dumbfounded.  
  
"My name is Maxwell Sandler. I'm not sure what's going on, but a Mr. Carlton offered to pay for my flight to LA if I would give this to a Colonel Smith." He handed over an envelope.  
  
Hannibal stared at the man, then slowly opened the envelope. Murdock moved close to read over his shoulder.  
  
"Stop looking. NOW."  
  
*****  
  
He sat back in his seat, watching the Texas scenery float past. He pulled his cap down over his eyes, preparing to sleep. He smiled. The Jazz was back.  
  
"Leave the driving to us," he thought. And started laughing.


	16. Chapter 16

Hannibal was staring out the window at the clouds below them. Murdock was staring straight ahead, looking at the back of the seat in front of him. Neither had said much since leaving the airport yesterday. They'd gone back to their hotel, had a late supper, went to bed. The next morning they sent a check, in partial payment, to the motel owner, and then caught a flight to LA.  
  
Hannibal had hoped that Face would be too concentrated on his mission to notice, but it was obvious that he knew they were watching his accounts. It was just as obvious that he had money stashed away they knew nothing about. Which meant Houston would probably be the last and only chance they would have to get to Face before he ended up in Langley. To have that end up the way it did...  
  
Hannibal started chuckling. Murdock glanced over, took another longer look.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
The colonel kept chuckling, turning it into an outright laugh. And kept laughing.  
  
"He scammed us, Murdock! Like a couple of country cousins! THAT was pure Face!"  
  
The stewardess stared openly at the two men laughing almost hysterically in first class.  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell was not laughing. Murdock's words had not been dismissed as easily as it had appeared. He knew a few things about the aftermath of the double assassination that made him, well, tense. He knew, for instance, that when he had been picked up at his house to begin the circuitous journey back to the States, the lieutenant had been described as emotionless and rigid. He also knew it had not been as easy for Peck to escape as he had pretended - he had been vigorously hunted through the countryside for nearly four days before being able to ditch his vengeance-crazed pursuers.  
  
Stockwell was not dealing with a man. He was dealing with a machine. And that machine had a crafty intelligence, an iron will, and the quick wits to immediately adapt to whatever was thrown in its path. Thanks to the necessities of the desert mission, it also had access to certain security sectors Stockwell really wished it did not have. Stockwell knew he would have to engage his most able people to bring this machine to a dead stop.  
  
*****  
  
The cab drove away, leaving the exhausted man to wend his way down to the beach house. He dropped the overnight bag on the deck and immediately moved on to the beach. He sat with his back against a small tree, breathing in the salt air, listening to the booming of the waves. It had been an almost 34 hour trip on the bus and, although he had slept through a great deal of it, he was not rested.  
  
It had been a wonderful scam, one fraught with the possibility of failure. If he hadn't been able to find just the right person, it would never have worked. But it had. He would have preferred not to have resorted to a bus for transportation, but it was small price to pay. He smiled again. He really would have liked to have seen the look on The Colonel's face when he realized there really was a Maxwell. It was almost like playing with Stockwell.  
  
But now he had work to do. Having his finances monitored was something he had anticipated, but had hoped would not happen. It had been necessary to include his information with the rest of the men's, in order for them to have a complete picture of what was going on. Fortunately, he had made some arrangements on his own. He was thankful for this now; it would have made things infinitely more difficult if he hadn't.  
  
Because of the delays caused in Houston, he was somewhat behind in his schedule. He had some things that could not wait, but he would also need to rest up today. Tomorrow he would clean up here. He would be making another trip out of town the day after. This time he would not be coming back to LA afterward, but moving further east.  
  
*****  
  
The black van was on its way back to Langley. They expected to arrive within 24 hours. BA was driving this shift, Hannibal keeping him company. Murdock should have been sleeping, but the stress had made that impossible.  
  
Hannibal broke the silence. "You did get that tracer on Carla's car, right, Murdock?"  
  
"You betcha, Hannibal. She's not going anyplace without us."  
  
"Good. I imagine Stockwell's gone to ground and we'll need our little bird dog."  
  
"Uh, Hannibal? How we gonna stop him?"  
  
Hannibal had been dreading this conversation. He had been thinking about it for a long time, and knew the other two were not going to like what he had to say.  
  
"We've got to look reality head on, guys. We've been running around in circles from the beginning because we were looking for our friend. But that's not what Face is anymore. I know, I know," he cut off their protests, "he is, but he isn't. The man we're looking for now is a soldier, a highly trained, highly motivated soldier with a priority one mission. We have to start thinking as soldiers, not as friends. If we don't, we're going to lose him"  
  
BA nodded. "We been kinda killing him with kindness, not doing what we should because we didn't want to get him hurt."  
  
"Exactly. So now we step up to the plate. Our mission is diametrically opposed to his. He knows that. So now he's facing a 'two front' war. Which is only going to add to the stress he's already under. That's the other thing we have to deal with - the fact that he is not stable. That motel room is proof enough. And he now realizes that, on top of planning and running this campaign, he's also got to deal with his friends trying to stop him. He can't allow that to happen. Now, so far, he hasn't done anything too aggressive towards us. I know he doesn't want to. But if he gets close enough to Stockwell to complete his mission, and we interfere, I'm really not sure what he's going to do. I don't think he sees this as just revenge. He might have to begin with, I don't know. But I think he sees Stockwell's death as a way of atoning for those three men. Justice for them, if you will; maybe penance or even absolution for himself. And if he's focused on that, he's going to be dangerous for anyone who tries to stop him. Including us."  
  
"So you're saying we may have to shoot him?" Murdock was angry.  
  
"I'm saying we have to be prepared to do whatever is necessary to stop him from killing again. Because if he does, he might as well be dead."  
  
*****  
  
He'd scammed a small charter plane from LA to Detroit. It had taken some setting up, and he'd been afraid his extended absence may have blown the whole thing, but Janelle had been patiently waiting for his call. He smiled. He knew his abilities to charm the ladies had taken a bit of a beating over the past few months, but, while it hadn't been a stellar performance, it had done the job.  
  
The pilot asked no questions as the television exec carried on nothing but a duffel bag and rifle case. He had been told the guy was a fanatic about competition shooting, and the pilot himself was involved in the sport. The guy must be really gung-ho about it. He even wore his shooting gloves onto the plane.  
  
Once a rental car had been obtained in Detroit, the next stop was a post office. The last little package was sent to Stockwell. A little toy soldier, rifle at his shoulder, taking aim.  
  
He would be in Langley before the gift arrived.  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell was temporarily moving operations to a small compound outside Langley. It was nearly seven acres of meadowland, with a small lake on the north side, buildings located in the near center. It had been 'cleaned' the day before. They would be completely moved in by end of the day tomorrow. Surveillance and other security measures had been placed on the highest priority.


	17. Chapter 17

He pulled into Langley in the early evening. His first priority was finding a safe place to stay, and he had the perfect place in mind. He drove around the surrounding area several times, checking for any unwanted activity, but it was clear, as he had expected. He parked the rental car in an old shed behind the property that he had discovered long ago, and made his way through the back. He was careful to watch for any signs of occupation, but again, as expected, there was none. A few quick maneuvers and the house opened up for him, welcoming him home after so long...  
  
He wasn't prepared for it. He should have been, but he wasn't. It was as though Stockwell had carried out his threat. He wandered from room to room, not expecting and yet, stupidly, hoping to see Murdock, or Hannibal, BA, Frankie. Anyone. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. He didn't want to lose his edge, not now. Not when he was so close to Stockwell he could smell him. He knew it was the smart thing to do, staying here. It was absolutely the last place anyone would look for him. But he could feel his guard coming down, almost physically painful. He wanted them to be here. He wanted to see them, to hear them, talk to them. He passed the bedrooms. Hannibal's cigar smoke wafted through the air. BA's jewelry jingled behind the next door. Murdock's soft murmuring to Billy. Frankie's incessant chatter. He lay down on his bed, bare mattress rough and musty, and slept among his family.  
  
*****  
  
The black van finally pulled into Langley in the early morning hours. Its occupants were tired and tense. Hannibal figured Face was either here already or close to it. They didn't have much time. They first drove to Carla's house, where Murdock checked to make sure the car was in the garage. A few more minutes playing peeping tom told him Carla was home. Back in the van, he activated the tracer.  
  
"Good to go, Hannibal."  
  
"Okay, she'll be up and around in a couple of hours. Let's find a quiet place to park, BA; Murdock, you take first watch. Soon as she starts moving, wake us up."  
  
Murdock saluted from the back seat as the van pulled away.  
  
*****  
  
He awoke, feeling relaxed and rested for the first time in literally months. In the early light of the morning, the house was inviting, but no longer filled with ghosts. He was glad of that. He would be able to focus on the Job, not wallow in wishful thinking. He halfheartedly turned on the tap in the bathroom - nothing. As expected. He would place a work order later that morning for the utilities. He would be here for a while.  
  
He cautiously made his way back to his car. He was in Stockwell's territory now; he couldn't afford to get careless. A quick breakfast at a low-rent cafe and he was on his way. He passed Stockwell's office building - no signs of activity at this early hour. As expected. He continued on to his objective.  
  
He spotted the van almost immediately. If he hadn't been intimately familiar with it, he knew he would have missed it. Parked behind three rows of used pickups at a dealership four blocks from Carla's. He drove past, eyes straight. He knew that one of them would be awake, watching. Parked this far from her house meant they had her bugged. Good. It would save him the effort. He pulled around the block, parking on a side street that afforded him an angled view of the van. He smiled.  
  
"Game on, Colonel?"  
  
*****  
  
Murdock sat in the back of the van, listening for the telltale beep that would alert him to movement of Carla's car. He was watching the street, also, for any unusual activity. Very few cars had driven past the lot; it was still a bit early for commuters. Murdock knew he was keyed up. The reason for his coming back to Langley with Hannibal on that first trip instead of BA had not been lost on him. He knew he would have been the more logical choice to stay in LA but he was also aware that Hannibal was keeping a close eye on him. He would not let him down, he would keep himself focused. He would not let Face down.  
  
It was a minute hesitation that caught his eye. A car coming down the street, nothing unusual about it in appearance. Just another clone car. But it had slowed for just a split second before moving past. He tried to catch a glimpse of the driver but it was still too dark to see inside. Murdock sighed. Probably nothing. Maybe wishful thinking. Just nerves.  
  
He settled back to listen for the beep.  
  
*****  
  
Carla was packing. They would all be moving temporarily to the Meadows, no going to the office, no returning home at the end of the day, no opportunities for being followed. She was still stinging from Stockwell's words after Smith and Murdock had found the office. And having to go through a refresher driving course with Able 14 was embarrassing beyond words. It wouldn't happen again. She angrily shoved the last of her belongings into her bag and locked up. The Meadows was only a few miles away, but she intended such an extended route it would probably take her a good hour to get there.  
  
As she pulled out of the drive, she thought of Peck. Smith and his remaining men were a nuisance, and she had no doubts that Stockwell would be able to deal effectively with them. He had before. But Peck was dangerous. Carla was convinced that he was unhinged. Stockwell underestimated him. And that cockiness could put them all in jeopardy. Damn his arrogance, she thought, not sure which man she was actually referring to.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock almost jumped out of his skin when the beeping started suddenly. Carla was leaving earlier than expected. Hannibal and BA had awakened immediately at the noise, and after waiting a few moments to determine the direction she was heading, the van pulled out of the lot and moved into traffic.  
  
*****  
  
He waited until the van had gone several blocks before pulling onto the street behind them. Should they get on the highway he would have to move a little closer, but on the quiet streets of Langley it would be easy enough to keep them in sight from a distance. Just the fact that they had the van told him they had not been in Langley long, and they would be tired. Just tired enough for him to take advantage. The Colonel was overconfident. As always. As well as he knew Stockwell, he knew The Colonel much much better. And he would use that knowledge. He would use The Colonel as his own little tracking device. Stockwell was not the only one who wouldn't know what hit him.


	18. Chapter 18

Murdock was concentrating on the tracking device. They'd been driving forever, through every little nook and cranny in Langley. He grimaced; apparently Carla had learned her lesson. He had to keep telling BA which new direction she was taking, and the big man was getting just a might irritated at the constant switchbacks. Hannibal seemed to be taking it in stride. He sat smoking his cigar, eyes closed, a smile on his face. He knew they wouldn't lose her. He knew they would find Stockwell.  
  
Hopefully he 'knew' they would find Face, too.  
  
Carla was starting to take fewer and fewer turns now. Instead of seemingly wandering aimlessly, she was heading in the same general direction. Getting more into the suburbs now. It wasn't long after that all pretense of evasion stopped, and Carla was on an obviously direct route to wherever her ultimate destination was.  
  
BA was relieved when Murdock finally slowed down with the directions. He'd had an uneasy feeling as they were driving that they weren't alone in their pursuit of Carla, but hadn't been able to concentrate on anything except the maneuvers she was putting them through. Now he started watching behind him. A couple times he thought he glimpsed a vehicle, but it never got close enough to see if it was the same one or not. He would've liked to slow down and see what happened, but they could lose the signal that way.  
  
He glanced at Hannibal. He seemed totally unconcerned about anything that was happening at the moment. BA knew he was hatching up a variety of plans to deal with Stockwell. And Face. BA started wondering where he was right now. Hannibal figured he was pretty close.  
  
"She's making a right turn up here, BA. Close."  
  
Within a few minutes, they came upon an unobtrusive tractor path, leading past a thin grove of trees and off into a meadow. Carla's signal had stopped. BA parked the van beside the road and waited.  
  
"Well, Hannibal?" Murdock had his hand on the door handle.  
  
"What else?" he grinned. "The front door, of course."  
  
*****  
  
He'd had his work cut out for him this morning. Obviously Carla was leading the Team on a merry chase and he was having a hard time keeping them in sight without making his own presence known. He was relieved when they started moving in a less erratic manner. As the suburbs flowed past, he was able to relax and move farther back.  
  
Gradually they moved into an area with fewer and fewer houses. He came over a small hill and his heart caught. The van was parked on the side of the road, less than 100 yards in front of him. Quickly throwing his cap and sunglasses on, he zipped past them and kept going. He drove for another mile before pulling far into a farm lane. He waited for ten minutes. No van. Locking the car, he began backtracking on foot.  
  
He trotted through the trees and brush, paralleling the road. Eventually he came back within sight of the van. He couldn't tell from this distance whether anyone was still inside or if they had followed Carla on foot. He felt incredibly exposed out here. Not only did he need to keep an eye out for the team, he knew Stockwell's bunch had to be somewhere close. He started moving closer, knowing he was vulnerable in broad daylight. It was not to his liking, but he would manage.  
  
He hadn't gone much further when he came to a wire strand fence. It wasn't very high, maybe six feet. Just the right height to tempt one to do a quick climb over it. He knew immediately he'd found Stockwell's little hiding place, as the faint hum of live current came to his ears. He stayed where he was, quickly scanning the posts and trees for cameras. He saw two, swiveling slowly from tall trees some 50 feet apart. He crouched down, fairly certain he was still outside their view. He was about to start moving back when he heard them.  
  
The three men were inside the fence. He wasn't sure if they had been lucky, or if Stockwell were already watching their every move. He had his answer when three jeeps roared up, a dozen Ables pointing weapons at the trio. The team simultaneously raised their hands high above their heads. He heard The Colonel clearly.  
  
"I love it when a plan comes together!"  
  
"Take us to your leader!" The Pilot laughed.  
  
The Ables lowered their weapons, the team their hands. He watched coldly as the team climbed quickly into the jeeps and were driven away. He had known they would not forgive him for the murders. He had known they would try to stop him in this mission. He had not expected that they would actually join forces with Stockwell. Join forces with the man who would kill him if he had the chance. He understood now that the lines had been drawn.  
  
*****  
  
They were led into a large study. Three desks were piled with files and telephones, and several file cabinets were scattered along the walls. At the fourth desk sat Carla. She was not happy. Again.  
  
"Hi, Carla! Bet you thought we'd forgotten about you."  
  
She hated Hannibal Smith.  
  
"The General's waiting for you. Through there," she indicated a wide door to her left.  
  
Stockwell was glaring at them as they entered. He was not sure how they had found him yet again, suspecting Carla but acknowledging they probably had planted something somewhere. Now the question was what to do with them. He could work with them to find Peck. It would probably take much less time. However, the problem was his plan for the Lieutenant versus theirs. He knew they would try to save the man; he wanted him eliminated. Of course, he could get rid of all of them. The glare turned to an ugly smile at that thought.  
  
"Well, Colonel, you are just as persistent now as always. I take it you still want to combine forces to locate Peck?"  
  
"You know we stand a better chance of getting him than you do, General. We know him a lot better than you do. We know how he thinks and how he's going to react. And we don't underestimate him."  
  
"Oh I don't underestimate the Lieutenant's talents, Colonel. I may find him a contemptible bit of humanity, a petty con artist and a liar, but I fully appreciate the other talents he possesses. Obviously."  
  
Were it not for Hannibal's restraining hands, Stockwell would have found himself minus a few vital pieces of anatomy. Smith could feel Murdock trembling with rage; BA had lightning glaring from his eyes. Stockwell seemed unfazed.  
  
"You might want to bear this in mind, Stockwell. We're not doing this out of concern for you. If that were our only interest, you'd be as good as dead. In fact, we'd probably do it ourselves. Keeping you alive is only a consequence of keeping Face safe."  
  
"I'll remember that, Colonel. So," he moved behind his desk, "you think you can stop Peck from getting to me, eh? How do you plan on doing that?"  
  
"We're going to set a trap, of course. Not here. We don't want Face anywhere near here. All we need from you is some kind of code word. Something related to his 'trip' that only you and he would understand. We'll take it from there."  
  
Stockwell considered. He would be able to keep track of the team; he didn't consider that a problem. If he were to play along with them, he could let them do the trapping and then his people could come in for the wet work. Much easier and neater. He liked neatness.  
  
"Very well, Colonel. I'll give you one chance at it. You want a 'code word'? Try 'irrevocably'. I'm quite sure he'll remember that one."  
  
*****  
  
He hadn't waited around after the men had been taken away. He knew where Stockwell was. That's all he needed. In another day or two, Stockwell would know for sure he was back in Langley. Things would start getting ugly then. The General may appear to be in hiding, but his Ables - with help from others - would be looking for him. Hard.  
  
He made little pretense at stealth on the way back to his car. Everyone in this new compound would undoubtedly be involved with the team at the moment. He retraced his route, slowly passing the van once more. He pulled to a stop. It wouldn't hurt to know where these three were over the next few days.  
  
He slipped quickly from his car and crossed to the van. Picking the driver's door lock, he swiftly stuck his own little device under the driver's seat and relocked the door. He tried not to notice the lingering cigar smoke. He immediately returned to his car and headed back into Langley. He had much to do.


	19. Chapter 19

The house in Langley was up and running. In another month, Stockwell would receive the bills for the utilities in his personal mail. If he were still alive.  
  
As evening drew near, he didn't worry too much about the ghosts. Somehow he knew they wouldn't be around any more. That scene at Stockwell's hideaway pretty much negated any chances of that happening again. He was not happy that he hadn't considered that possibility. He hadn't realized that the team's anger about the murders would reach such heights that they would join Stockwell. He had been shaken by that, but by the time he had driven back to the house it had been put aside, along with other things he no longer allowed in his mind. Now it was simply another facet to the Job. Another consideration.  
  
He was quite sure The Colonel would make some attempt to contact him. He would want to draw him in, not wait around for him to make the first move. The usual way of contacting each other if they couldn't telephone would be through a personal ad. They knew he would not, absolutely, answer an ad from them. Stockwell would know about the placing of ads and it was something he would make use of. There would be nothing unusual about that. They would make the ad come from Stockwell. A challenge from him, or possibly an olive branch. And if he answered it, they would be waiting instead.  
  
And he would answer it. Just not in the way they would be expecting.  
  
*****  
  
"How about the old house? Face might feel at an advantage if he already knew the place."  
  
"No, that's the last place he'd want to go. He'd figure Stockwell would have too many tricks already in place."  
  
"It oughta be some place public. Where he'd feel safe but couldn't make any moves hisself."  
  
They had been going over possible places to set their trap for an hour or more. Each suggestion was met with objections of one sort or another. They were all getting frustrated. Finally Hannibal stood up.  
  
"Okay, fellas, cards on the table. We've come up with a lot of good solid places for this to happen. And managed to shoot them all down. I think we know why."  
  
BA and Murdock were silent. Nothing really had to be said. None of them liked what they were doing, planning a trap for Face. There was something low-down about it. Something Stockwell about it. But they didn't know what else to do. If Face wouldn't come to his friends, they had to make him come after his enemy.  
  
"We have to think of Face as just another bad guy. I hate it; I know you do, but we can't think of him as a friend. We already made that mistake once. This is a bad guy. Period. And we have to take him down just like we would any other bad guy."  
  
"He's a little different from our usual guys, Hannibal," Murdock said sarcastically. "Most of them aren't SF trained. And most of them don't know us like the back of their hand."  
  
"He's not going to be looking for us, Captain. He's going to be expecting Stockwell, probably a bunch of the Ables..."  
  
"And a trap..."  
  
"Yes, and a trap. But a Stockwell trap. And definitely not us. We're going to catch him so far off guard he won't have time to react, and then we'll have him."  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
"Yeah, BA?  
  
"What'll we do with him, once we got him?"  
  
Hannibal looked at his sergeant.  
  
"Keep him safe. From Stockwell, from himself." Looking at the pilot, "Other than that, I haven't a clue..."  
  
*****  
  
As he expected, the ad appeared two days later.  
  
"LT. P.: Your future could be irrevocably changed. 4:00PM." An address followed.  
  
Ah, Stockwell had to have given them that. He looked at the address. He was familiar with the area - small residential homes, a couple of parks, nothing much else. Very safe, neutral ground. Supposed to indicate 'Stockwell' wanted to talk. White flag time. Right.  
  
There was no date listed, of course. They wouldn't be sure when he would see it. They would have to be set up every day to be ready. How long would they wait for him to respond? A week, maybe ten days. So he could safely make them wait five or six days before making his move. Enough time to start letting their guard down. Enough time for Stockwell to start getting impatient. Enough time to add a little pressure to the conspirators. He smiled.  
  
He had tried to be a good friend. Now he was going to be an even better adversary.  
  
*****  
  
"We need Carla."  
  
Stockwell was taken aback. "Carla? Whatever for?"  
  
"Emissary. This is supposed to be all your idea, remember."  
  
"And just what would she be expected to do?"  
  
"Just keep him talking, keep him occupied. We'll do the rest."  
  
"She won't be..."  
  
"No, Face has no reason to harm her."  
  
"Very well. You'll have to talk to her, let her know the sort of things she needs to say so he won't just walk out on this."  
  
"We'll make sure she's briefed thoroughly. The ad came out this morning so we'll need her starting today."  
  
"How long are you going to run this little project?"  
  
"A week, maybe ten days. If he doesn't show by then, he's not going to."  
  
Hannibal met with Carla for almost an hour. He needed Face occupied for maybe ten to fifteen minutes. Carla was to tell him that Stockwell wanted a peaceful resolution to things. He wouldn't believe it, of course, and she had to try and convince him of their sincerity. She had to keep him going long enough for the trap to be sprung.  
  
"I know you don't like him, Carla. You don't like any of us. But while you're talking to him, you have to make him think that you really care about resolving this. That Stockwell does."  
  
"Don't worry about that, Colonel. I do want this resolved. For the good of the organization. The man is dangerous and needs to be stopped."  
  
Hannibal glared at her. "Just don't let him see that, Carla. I mean it. If he thinks for one second that this is a set up rather than a 'time out', he's gone. That's why we picked you. You're a neutral, even though you work for Stockwell. You're not a threat to him. Understand? You put your animosity to one side and leave it there. Period."  
  
"I understand perfectly, Colonel Smith." She returned his glare.  
  
*****  
  
It was mid-afternoon and he was cleaning his rifle. He had gotten back from the meeting site about an hour ago. He wanted a good picture of where things were, what obstacles were present, ever mindful of a backdoor. It was do-able.  
  
He knew that someone would be there to talk. Almost definitely not Stockwell. They wouldn't want to give him any opportunities. There would be no sign of the team. They'd be waiting to drop the net. An Able, maybe? No, they didn't have the authority to negotiate. And that's what the scenario would be. Carla. Yeah, that would make sense. Carla spoke for Stockwell. Always. They would choose Carla to keep him occupied. Keep him distracted.  
  
Too bad, really.  
  
*****  
  
Carla handed him the package. Sighing, Stockwell opened it, pulling out the little toy soldier. He stared at it for a long moment.  
  
"Don't mention this to the others." Carla nodded. "You and I need to discuss this meeting..."


	20. Chapter 20

He had watched the house for the last three days. They had a routine which was perfect. Their house was perfect. The view was perfect. Husband and wife, maybe. No kids. No dogs. Up and coming professionals, which meant no imagination where it counted. They would give him no trouble.  
  
He'd watched the park also. Arriving at 2:00, he would casually stroll to a park bench and sit down to read his paper. He was safely positioned to observe as the principals in the farce showed up. He noted they had deliberately established a routine. The more visible you were, the less you were seen. A trick so old they probably thought he wouldn't consider it. Each day a delivery van had shown up about 3:00. After a wide circle around the park (and undoubtedly around the neighborhood), it would pull in at the side of a neighborhood grocery. The grocery was at the end of a small row of businesses facing the park. A delivery man would unload a stack of boxes onto a dolly, which he then took behind the store. Carla would show up around 3:30 or so and sit at a picnic table near the center of the park. She always sat facing the store. She would have a book with her, pretending to read. And so they would sit. About 5:00, the delivery man would return without his boxes. Carla would put away her book and walk away. The van would leave a few minutes later.  
  
He had to admit, they had thought of almost everything. To someone who didn't know what to watch for, there would be nothing extraordinary going on, no one would connect the van and the woman. He might even have been taken in, not being familiar with the neighborhood's usual rhythm. And he would have been sitting with his back to the store. And the store's roof. Yeah, it might have worked. In the past. Not now.  
  
Tomorrow he would prepare his answer to their ad.  
  
*****  
  
"Still think he'll take the bait, Colonel? It's been five days now." Stockwell was generally a patient man, but this was little too much out of his control and it made him, well, not nervous but 'concerned'.  
  
"He'll show. We don't know for sure when he got into Langley, or if he saw the ad right away. But once he's seen it, he'll come. We'll give it a few more days."  
  
Hannibal left Stockwell in his office, heading for the set of rooms assigned the team for the duration. The lack of action on Face's part was making everyone nervous. Hannibal, himself, was beginning to show the strain of waiting. He couldn't find the Jazz this time. Not when Face was the quarry. It felt almost like an act of filicide.  
  
He stepped into the first of three rooms, finding BA and Murdock playing a desultory game of gin. Murdock would hold an occasional whispered conference with his cards. He had been falling back more and more on his old ways of dealing with stress. Hannibal was worried but so far the pilot was doing what he was supposed to, when he was supposed to.  
  
BA was another worry. He normally was a taciturn man, but his silences now were almost a constant. Hannibal had found him staring out at nothing on several occasions, which was totally unlike BA. He could guess what the big man was thinking about. He was never far from anyone's mind.  
  
*****  
  
He approached the back of the house cautiously. He hadn't seen any dogs, but one could never be too careful. He also didn't know if these people had any guns in the house. A frightened amateur could inflict as much damage as a trained professional given the right conditions.  
  
He'd waited until the lights had gone out, and then given them another hour to be soundly asleep. He quietly picked the lock to the back door, and crept inside. He flashed his pen light, the tiny light blinking quickly before being extinguished, showing him what lay in his path. He would have liked to have gotten in the house before dark but that was just not practicable.  
  
He glided up the carpeted stairway, pausing to see if any lights shown from the upstairs proper. Nothing. There were four doorways in the upper hall; one belonged to the bathroom. He crept to each door, gently opening it and taking another quick glance with his penlight. One guest room, one bathroom, one storage. As expected, the master bedroom was at the front of the house. He pulled on a ski mask.  
  
He took the woman first, quickly putting his hand over her mouth while his forearm pressed on her neck. He told her to be quiet and wake her husband. The man had the good sense not to put up any kind of fight. Turning on the bedside lamp, he had them sit up against the headboard and tied their hands and feet with a soft cord.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you unless you cause problems. I'm not going to gag you unless you try calling for help. I need your house for about 24 hours. Then I'll leave and you can go on with your lives." He looked at them. They glanced at each other, then nodded. "Good. In the morning, you will call in sick at work. You will not use any names other than your own. It will be short and to the point. After that, you'll be tied up again. It's for your protection as well as mine. I don't want any silly heroics. Tomorrow evening, I'll be done with your house and I will leave you alive and safe. End of story." Again they nodded.  
  
He left the house briefly, to retrieve his equipment from his car, parked on the next street. Returning, he checked his prisoners once more before lying down to sleep.  
  
*****  
  
"Getting time, fellas."  
  
They each nodded and began their preparations. BA went out to check over the van, while Murdock checked to make sure the dart gun was well oiled and that they had at least two full-dose darts for it. A full dose would put BA out for a few hours. They figured Face would be waking up a good twelve hours after the administration. And they wanted him out long enough to put many miles between him and Stockwell.  
  
Carla moved out to her car. She checked her purse, making sure the Beretta Stockwell had given her was easily accessible. Once the dart hit, immobilizing him, he was dead. And the organization, her organization, would be safe.  
  
*****  
  
It was nearly 3:00. He moved his prisoners out of the master bedroom and into the guest room at the back. He had gagged them, apologizing that it wouldn't be for long. He could take no chances on them suddenly deciding to call out at the wrong moment. Closing the bedroom door and returning to the front, he checked his preparations. The curtains were almost completely closed, leaving a two inch opening in the middle. The window itself was open half way; a small hole had been cut in the screen early in the morning. The large dresser was positioned perpendicular to the window, the perfect platform. The rifle sat on top, ready.  
  
He removed the ski mask gratefully. He hadn't taken it off since entering the house, not wanting to chance forgetting it when he was around the prisoners. He didn't want to have to kill them because of his own stupidity. He lay a dull colored netting lightly over the barrel of the rifle and the silencer so there would be no sun glints. He was ready. He felt a familiar buzz in his head; his heart's rhythm picked up. It was coming.  
  
As soon as he saw the van arrive, he looked at his gloved hands. It was time. Steeling himself, he pulled off the gloves. Time to go to work, guys.  
  
*****  
  
Carla walked casually over to the picnic table, positioning herself to face the van. The book on the table, her purse next to her on the bench, open and accessible. She took a deep breath and relaxed. She was ready.  
  
BA and Murdock sat quietly in the back of the van. On the second floor roof of the store, Hannibal held the dart gun loosely across his lap, a smile on his face. He had forced aside the fact that this was Face, his friend, his teammate, his second-in-command. This was a take down of a bad guy, and the Jazz was building. He would take the shot, and as soon as the guy fell, BA and Murdock would drag him to the van. It would only take about two minutes.  
  
If he showed up.  
  
*****  
  
He lay on the dresser, stock against his cheek, sighting his target. His whole body was humming, buzzing, an incredible energized joy surging through him. He had to force himself to relax, to sight carefully, to slowly squeeze the trigger...  
  
Carla's head snapped at the impact. She sat for just a second, a look of shock on her face. Slowly she toppled to the side, off the bench, on the ground.  
  
There was a shout from the van, the sliding door wrenching open, The Pilot racing out. A second later the van itself roared, jumping the curb. Moments later The Colonel came from behind the store. All racing for the body on the ground.  
  
A second shot stopped The Colonel. A mere foot in front of him. The Pilot nearly ran into him. Keystone Kops. The van shuddered to a halt. Silence. Watching them look around, frantic.  
  
He lay still. He would fire no more. The job for today was done. He had sent them his reply. Slowly, he forced himself to don the gloves once more. He left the gun where it was, not wanting to alert the trio below to any movement. He watched them as they stood there, wondering if they dare to move. He smiled at their discomfort. Finally The Colonel took a tentative step, then another. When there were no more shots, he ran to Carla, picking her up. They clambered into the van, which roared out of the park and down the street, out of sight. Only then did he remove the gun and himself from the window.  
  
It took a few minutes for his heartbeat to slow to normal. He found he was shaking slightly. This was not good. He had not wanted to stop shooting. He had not wanted to put those gloves back on. He wanted to keep that roaring energy that had flowed through him. And that scared him.  
  
At least he hadn't killed anyone. This had just been a warning. Quit fucking with me...


	21. Chapter 21

Three angry men sat in the van outside the house at The Meadows. They were silent, seething inside at how everything had gone wrong.  
  
Murdock stared out the window. He was angry, yes, angrier than he had been since first hearing about this whole nightmare. But, in all that anger, was also fear. For his friend. Fear that this killer had taken his Face away forever. That they were too late, that even if they could capture him, they would never have Face back again. And yet, Carla's wound had not been fatal. Had not even been potentially fatal. And Hannibal and he had both been easy targets, but the shot had gone in front of them. Those shots had been deliberately off. They had to have been. And so amidst the anger and the fear there was also a small shred of hope. Just a small shred...  
  
BA was so angry he couldn't move. He just didn't know who to be angry at. Face? He would be if he didn't realize they weren't dealing with Face any more. Face was as good as gone. So Stockwell? Definitely Stockwell for starting this whole nightmare. And giving that gun to Carla. It was easy to see what they had in mind. And what about Hannibal? Joining forces with Stockwell. He shoulda known better. He shoulda...Hell, they all shoulda...  
  
Hannibal had not taken out a cigar. He would have bitten the damn thing in half if he had. He had assured Stockwell that Carla would be safe. Now, not only had she been shot, but he had found the Beretta in her purse. Which meant that Stockwell and Carla had had their own little plan for Face. And Face...Face had shot from nowhere, not giving anyone a fighting chance. No warning, no challenge, nothing, just shooting.  
  
But he didn't kill anyone.  
  
'Damn it, Face. I don't even know who you are...'  
  
*****  
  
He was tired. He had been running in high gear for so long; how much longer he could keep going he wasn't sure. He needed to finish this up. He had them where he wanted them now, he was sure. Confused, edgy, possibly scared. He wouldn't wait any longer. It was time to finish the Job. Finish Stockwell. Finish his cronies, the ones that helped set up the whole overseas thing. He had the documentation he needed, to be mailed before he left for the last job. Once that hit the various news organizations around the world, Stockwell's little friends would be so busy covering their asses they wouldn't have time to interfere with world events for a long, long time. Maybe never. They would be political history, powerless bobble heads. He could live with that.  
  
But Stockwell was another matter. Stockwell had no public persona. He was a power and a force unto himself. He would be dangerous for a long time to come, regardless of what happened to his friends. So he had to go. And once that was done, he would have only one last enemy to deal with. And that would be the easiest of all.  
  
*****  
  
The team was staying at The Meadows. None of them were sure if it were really by choice. Stockwell had insisted they could do more good staying there and waiting for Peck to attack than trying once again to locate him outside. There was a certain logic to it. The problem being, of course, that there was no guarantee this way that Face would come out of it alive.  
  
They thought at first it was just a rumble of remote thunder. Then the electricity went out. A few seconds later the generator kicked in. Hannibal looked at the others. It was time.  
  
Stockwell knew it also. Immediately there was a quiet beeping noise throughout the house. Ables starting moving quickly, some heading for the main office area, some moving to the outside. Hannibal nodded at the other two men. Murdock and BA headed for the outside, Hannibal for Stockwell's office. If they could, they would try to take Face down first, before the Ables could. At least they would be shooting to disable; Stockwell's men had their own orders.  
  
*****  
  
The few seconds between his detonating the radio controlled explosive on the power pole up the road and the generator kicking in had allowed him to slip past the stalled cameras. Now time was on his side. It was only an hour past sunset. He had all night. Hell, he had all week if he so chose.  
  
The house itself was surrounded by brilliantly lit security lights. He saw The Mechanic almost immediately. Then The Pilot, at the opposite corner of the house. Nothing of The Colonel; he was probably inside with Stockwell. A flash of regret. He didn't like the idea of dying with them hating him this much. He could put a stop to things right now. He could just step out of the darkness, handing himself over without a fight, and let himself be killed then and there. They might forgive him then. But that would leave Stockwell to continue doing the horrible things he did. He couldn't do that.  
  
He finished his survey of the house. A few of the Ables had come so close to him he thought he would have to take them, but they moved on. Not stupid - they just didn't know what to look for. He saw The Mechanic looking in his direction a few times. Too many times. What had he seen that he shouldn't have? But the man did nothing; he was only suspicious.  
  
He moved back from the house. He was watching for a particular Able. One that was a little too far from the other searchers, a little too involved in watching the ground in front of him instead of his surroundings, a little too green for this kind of assignment. He found a relatively secluded area, just out of sight of the main door where The Mechanic was. He was taking no chances with that one.  
  
It took hours, but the activity that had been so frenzied was beginning to taper off. With no sign of any intruder, people started relaxing, thinking perhaps it really was just a run of the mill power outage. He, on the other hand, became more diligent. This was when he would most likely find his Able.  
  
Sure enough, before too long, there was one, off to his right. A little too close to the house yet, but heading in the right direction. He moved slowly, quietly. They continued to converge on each other until the Able suddenly looked up, suspicious. It was too late, of course.  
  
*****  
  
BA carefully avoided looking too often in a certain direction. He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to take any chances on an Able noticing. He saw one Able, a little too close to that area. But he was obviously new at this, intent on watching the ground right in front of him instead of looking around. Not a problem then. BA unobtrusively signaled Murdock, and drifted into the house.  
  
Going to Stockwell's office, he knocked on the door and motioned for Hannibal to step outside.  
  
"If there's anything to say, Baracus, say it here," Stockwell demanded.  
  
"If I want to talk to you, sucka, I'll talk to you. And I ain't talking to you." BA scowled. Hannibal quickly stepped outside, taking the sergeant with him. Glancing around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, he looked at BA, eyebrows raised.  
  
"I think he's out there, Hannibal. I could just make out some movement in the underbrush, just southeast of the house. These fools don't know it, walked right by him more'n a few times. But he's there."  
  
"Okay, BA, think you can get close to him?"  
  
"Uh-uh. There's no way he ain't been keepin' an eye on me and Murdock. He probably knows I'm in the house now, but I had to let you know."  
  
"No problem. If he was going to make his move early, he'd have done it by now. No, he's got something up his sleeve. He's waiting for the right time for whatever it is." Hannibal sighed. "Okay, head back out. Let Murdock know if you can without arousing his suspicions. We don't want him to know you saw him. Try to keep an eye on things. We have to get to him before anyone else."  
  
BA nodded and casually walked back outside. More and more of the Ables were coming back toward the house, muttering about false alarms. Good; the less of them outside the less chance of problems. It wouldn't be unduly noticed if he walked over to Murdock now.  
  
BA caught up with Murdock. Glancing cautiously over to 'the area', he noted the green Able was out of sight. BA didn't like that. He was torn between checking it out and not wanting to draw unwanted attention. Quickly, he let the pilot in on the situation and they were about to head over toward the missing Able when he stepped out from behind a tree, eyes again intent on the ground. BA sighed. Too many of these fools wandering around.  
  
*****  
  
He had been taken out with a swift kick to the side of his head and quickly stripped of his clothes. Stockwell's newest Able ambled toward the house.  
  
He moved gradually in with a group of five Ables who were on their way to the house. With so many of them around, it was not surprising they did not particularly notice someone they didn't recognize. Stockwell's overzealousness in security measures had backfired big time. He stayed with the group as they entered the house. It gave him time to look things over. Eventually he found himself in the kitchen, sipping coffee and munching doughnuts supplied for the incoming searchers. He listened carefully to various comments made about the search, security in general, and around a certain office on the first floor. He had kept moving, casually, and was glad he had, as he was able to move inconspicuously away from The Mechanic and The Pilot as they entered the kitchen.  
  
He watched them in particular. He saw the black man glance at him, then turn and say something to the Pilot, who also glanced casually in his direction and hardly a moment later started laughing, then choking on his doughnut. During the commotion, he slipped quietly through the door.  
  
The entry hall was nearly empty. More and more of the Ables were either going back to bed or returning to their normal duties. He saw a small alcove to one side, coats and other paraphernalia hung about in it. He sidled over and positioned himself to watch.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had silently acknowledged BA's news that Face was indeed on site and close by. He had known, somehow, before BA had told him. He was also concerned about the sudden disappearing act the Able had performed. They were moving to look for him when he suddenly reappeared. Dumb kid. They made a quick and quiet look around the area Face had been, but found nothing.  
  
"Face could have gotten into the house by now," Murdock muttered. BA nodded and they followed the last of the Ables into the building. They made a quick stop at the office, but neither Stockwell nor Hannibal was there. BA nodded toward the kitchen where the Ables were congregating.  
  
When they entered, the room was crowded with tired and chagrined men. Most were complaining that it was a lot of bother over an electrical outage, that Stockwell was really getting paranoid any more, and other disgruntled comments. BA suddenly turned to Murdock, growling softly into his ear.  
  
"There's that guy got 'lost' a bit ago."  
  
Murdock glanced over where BA had indicated, and Face's eyes bored into him. Shocked, all he could think was here was Face, standing around socializing with his intended victim's bodyguards. Who could do that except his ultimate con man? It was so unbelievable that he started laughing at the outrageousness of it. And then he started choking on his own doughnut. By the time he could catch his breath, Face was gone.  
  
"C'mon, BA, now!" he whispered. Surprised, BA followed him out of the kitchen without a word.  
  
"What's goin' on, fool?"  
  
"That was Face, BA! The guy that got 'lost'! Only he didn't get lost - the real Able is probably out in the woods yet. We gotta find him, we gotta find Hannibal, we gotta..."  
  
"Hold up, man! Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Sure as you're standing there, BA."  
  
"Okay, okay - we'll go see Hannibal."  
  
*****  
  
After BA had gone outside to find Murdock, Hannibal stepped back into the office. Stockwell, still fuming over BA's 'cheek', glared at him. He was about to start telling Hannibal how to keep his men under control when he was interrupted.  
  
"He's here, General. Right under your men's noses. Now you do what I tell you and we may both be able to get out of this mess of yours without a lot of blood being shed. But you will do exactly what I tell you and nothing more. Understood?"  
  
Stockwell straightened up with dignity. He didn't like being given orders, but the chagrin at his own men having missed Peck won out.  
  
"Very well, Colonel. I'm in your hands."  
  
"Good. You're going to be the bait. I want you to take two of your best men and go to your quarters. Put on a vest. Otherwise, you 'retire' for the night as usual. Got that? One man in the room, concealed. The other outside the door."  
  
"You think..."  
  
"I think a lot of things, Stockwell. Right now I want you upstairs with your men. Do as I say and you'll probably wake up in the morning."  
  
*****  
  
There were two Ables in front of the office door, but they stood aside as BA rumbled through. Hannibal wasn't there; Stockwell sat at the desk, bent over some paperwork.  
  
"You seen Hannibal, Stockwell?"  
  
"Not recently, BA." He raised his head, and Hannibal's eyes twinkled at them.  
  
BA and Murdock looked at each other and grinned. Hannibal was on the Jazz. Now they had a battle they could win.


	22. Chapter 22

Can I do this?  
  
He shouldn't be thinking that way. It would screw things up. Badly.  
  
This is no stranger.  
  
I know this man.  
  
I'll look him in the eye before I do it.  
  
He'll look into mine.  
  
He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Slowly exhaled, counting to ten.  
  
This is not protecting the team.  
  
This is cold blooded murder.  
  
This is revenge.  
  
Can I do this?  
  
Too late, man.  
  
Way, way too late.  
  
You're lost already.  
  
Do it.  
  
Now.  
  
*****  
  
Stockwell was working late. Very late. He'd seen him come to the door, talk to the two Ables there. His view had been partially blocked. He couldn't tell if Stockwell was worried. Or scared. Or just Stockwell. As cold a machine as he could be.  
  
The people in the house were nervous. The Ables at the door had practically jumped when Stockwell opened it. He hadn't heard what had been said, just the one Able say, "Yessir, General." Instructions of some kind. Didn't matter.  
  
He was tired. He'd been up for...he couldn't remember. Odd. He should know when he got up.  
  
You're slipping, my friend.  
  
Yeah. I need to get this done, so I can sleep. Sleep without dreams. That would be good. Rest.  
  
With a mental shake of his head, he straightened up and strode confidently up to the office door. "Able 13. I need to see the General. We just go some news on Peck."  
  
The Able knocked on the door, stuck his head in, "Able 13 to see you, sir. News on Peck."  
  
He motioned the messenger in.  
  
*****  
  
The General was seated at the desk, his back to the door. He was scribbling on a note pad. Didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him.  
  
"General."  
  
The man stopped writing, slowly swiveled around in his chair.  
  
"Face."  
  
Something was wrong here. Stockwell looked...looked like Hannibal. Hannibal in a wig. No, his mind was playing tricks. Too little sleep...too little...just...just do it...finish it...  
  
He pulled the gun from his waistband. Pointed it.  
  
Stockwell/Hannibal smiled at him. A shit-eating smile.  
  
"You don't want to shoot me, do you, Face?"  
  
No, he couldn't shoot Hannibal. But this wasn't Hannibal. This was Stockwell...it had to be...no, he'd been tricked. No, Stockwell was trying to trick him. Shoot him. Get it over with...  
  
"Hey, Face."  
  
Murdock's soft voice came to him from the left. He glanced over, seeing the pilot move out from behind the drapes.  
  
"Why don't you let us take you home, Face?" Murdock smiled, a soft, reassuring smile. He felt himself wanting to smile back. No, another trick. He was with Stockwell. This was a trick. He backed up a step.  
  
He heard a jingle of jewelry, saw BA on the right. Where had he come from? He hadn't seen him before. He was slipping. He'd messed up. This wasn't going right. Not at all...  
  
"Put the gun down, Face. You don't need it any more." BA's voice, a soft rumble.  
  
"Face..." Hannibal/Stockwell again. "Face, we know what went down over there. Stockwell will pay for his part - but not this way. We want you to come home with us. We'll figure things out from there."  
  
"You're working with him. I put down the gun, you kill me. For him."  
  
"No, Face, never. Never. We didn't join Stockwell. We came to him so we could keep you alive, safe from him. It was the only way."  
  
Hannibal's voice was so low, so soft. Mesmerizing. Like a snake charmer. Hannibal the charmer, Face the snake.  
  
"You can't.... I killed three people. I broke the rules."  
  
"You didn't feel you had a choice, Face. I know that. We all know that. I won't say it doesn't matter. I won't lie to you, Face. But we are a team. We don't walk out on trouble."  
  
This wasn't going right. They hated him. He knew that. He'd seen them. In the woods. He knew...he... where was Stockwell?  
  
"Where is he?" His voice felt stronger. The mission. Remember the mission. These people had nothing to do with that.  
  
"He's here, in the house. But you don't want to kill him, Face. You don't want to be on his level. You aren't on his level."  
  
"He has to be put down. He'll only go on doing what he's always done, destroying people."  
  
"We can do that, Face. We can bring him down. You have the information to do that. We know that. You can bring him down without killing him."  
  
Murdock took a small step forward. "C'mon, Face. Put the gun down. We'll work things out. You don't have to be alone any more."  
  
God, he was tired. So tired. They were going to stop him. He couldn't fight all of them. The gun felt so heavy in his hand. He couldn't fight the team. He slowly lowered it to his side.  
  
"I can't go back. You can't forgive me for what I did, I know that. How could I come back to you?"  
  
Hannibal stood up, slowly, carefully. Face looked him straight in the eyes.  
  
"You can, kid. We can forgive you, believe me. You are forgiven." Hannibal blinked.  
  
Face let the gun drop. He was too tired now. An all encompassing tired. He'd failed. He would go with them. They would take him away from Stockwell. But they would not take him back with them. He knew that. He'd seen that blink. Hannibal lied.  
  
*****  
  
They moved out of the office. Hannibal led the way, Murdock and BA on either side of Face. Not touching him, but letting him know they were there.  
  
"PECK!"'  
  
He stopped, turned slowly to face Stockwell. The General was standing at the bottom of the stairway, a dozen Ables flanking him, pistol in his hand. He could hear Hannibal behind him, talking to Stockwell, angry. Shouting. Stockwell said something in response but he didn't notice what it was exactly. It didn't really matter.  
  
Can I do this?  
  
He carefully pulled his right glove off, letting it fall, staring at Stockwell. Hannibal was talking to him now. The words didn't register. Just a voice.  
  
This is no stranger.  
  
I know this man.  
  
I'll look him in the eye before I do it.  
  
He'll look into mine.  
  
Very deliberately, he removed the left glove, dropped it to the floor. Took a deep breath. Slowly exhaled, counting to ten.  
  
Stockwell raised the pistol.  
  
This is not protecting the team.  
  
This is cold blooded murder.  
  
This is revenge.  
  
Can I do this?  
  
He raised his arms, hands level with his shoulders, palms facing Stockwell. He smiled, a dark, contemptuous smile. Staring at Stockwell.  
  
Too late, man.  
  
Way, way too late.  
  
You're lost already.  
  
"Do it," he whispered. "Now."


	23. Chapter 23

PART THREE  
  
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars. -- Charles A Beard  
  
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE  
  
Hannibal opened the office door, startling the two Ables standing outside. He spoke quickly and quietly.  
  
"You wanna help save your boss' ass tonight, keep your mouths shut and listen. As far as you're concerned, Stockwell is still in this office, working. If anyone comes up to the door, don't try to stop him. Just knock on the door and announce him so I have a little notice, okay?"  
  
The older of the two Ables looked at Hannibal, trying not to stare at the dark wig. "Yessir...General."  
  
"Good man." Hannibal grinned and went back inside, closing the door.  
  
"All set, Colonel?"  
  
"Yeah, they'll let him through. Better get in position; I don't know how long he'll wait."  
  
Murdock moved quickly behind the heavy drapes to the left of the door, making sure his feet were hidden. Face would notice something like that. BA stood to the right of the door, partially hidden by a wooden pillar; it was hoped Face wouldn't realize he was behind him until it was too late.  
  
Hannibal sat at the desk, tapping a pen. He really would like a cigar right now but it would be a dead giveaway.  
  
It took another 20 minutes.  
  
The Able knocked on the door, stuck his head in, "Able 13 to see you, sir. News on Peck."  
  
Hannibal turned his back to the door, pretending to write notes. He didn't turn around when Face first came in; they needed him all the way in the room.  
  
"General."  
  
He stopped writing, slowly swiveled around in his chair, seeing Face for the first time in months. And he was more disturbed by it than he dared let on. Physically, the man looked lean and hard compared to what he had been before; there was a gauntness to his face, obvious even under that beard, and a dullness to his eyes that Hannibal hadn't seen since the war. He struggled to keep his own voice level.  
  
"Face."  
  
Hannibal noted the confusion on his friend's face and realized Face was not yet registering that it was Hannibal sitting in front of him. This was not good. He had planned on reasoning with Face, but it was obvious the man in front of him wasn't capable of anything except mechanically completing his task. He would have to play on the confusion. And fast.  
  
Face had pulled the gun from his waistband. Pointed it.  
  
Hannibal smiled at him. Hopefully it didn't look as shaky as it felt.  
  
"You don't want to shoot me, do you, Face?"  
  
More seconds of confusion. Hannibal saw him tighten his grip on the pistol, adjust his stance.  
  
"Hey, Face."  
  
Murdock moved out from behind the drapes.   
  
"Why don't you let us take you home, Face?" Murdock smiled, a soft, reassuring smile. Face stared at him for a moment, hesitating. He backed up a step.  
  
BA stepped out from beside the door. Moving closer, not too close. Face jumped, eyes darting to the side.  
  
"Put the gun down, Face. You don't need it any more." BA's voice, a soft rumble. Calm him down, Hannibal...  
  
"Face..." Hannibal spoke quietly, reassuring. Face slowly looked back at him. "Face, we know what went down over there. Stockwell will pay for his part - but not this way. We want you to come home with us. We'll figure things out from there."  
  
"You're working with him. I put down the gun, you kill me. For him." It almost didn't sound like Face; there was no light in that voice.  
  
"No, Face, never. Never. We didn't join Stockwell. We came to him so we could keep you alive, safe from him. It was the only way." Hannibal kept his voice low.  
  
"You can't.... I killed three people. I broke the rules."  
  
"You didn't feel you had a choice, Face. I know that. We all know that. I won't say it doesn't matter. I won't lie to you, Face. But we are a team. We don't walk out on trouble."  
  
For a moment, he thought he had him. His heart almost broke watching as Face obviously struggled to think clearly. Abruptly, Face straightened.  
  
"Where is he?" His voice was cold.  
  
"He's here, in the house. But you don't want to kill him, Face. You don't want to be on his level. You aren't on his level."  
  
"He has to be put down. He'll only go on doing what he's always done, destroying people."  
  
"We can do that, Face. We can bring him down. You have the information to do that. We know that. You can bring him down without killing him."  
  
Murdock took a small step forward. "C'mon, Face. Put the gun down. We'll work things out. You don't have to be alone any more."  
  
Face's stance loosened slightly. For a moment he just stood there. They waited. Then the gun was slowly lowered.  
  
"I can't go back. You can't forgive me for what I did, I know that. How could I come back to you?" There was such hopelessness in that voice.  
  
Hannibal stood up, slowly, carefully. Face looked him straight in the eyes. Hannibal returned the gaze, strong for his friend.  
  
"You can, kid. We can forgive you, believe me. You are forgiven." He blinked at the sudden sting in his eyes.  
  
Hannibal felt Face's eyes boring right through him. And then Face let the gun drop to the floor.  
  
*****  
  
They moved out of the office. Hannibal led the way, Murdock and BA on either side of Face. Not touching him, but letting him know they were there.  
  
"PECK!"'  
  
Hannibal had almost reached the outer office door when Stockwell called out. He swung around, seeing the General, the Ables, and the pistol in Stockwell's hand.  
  
"He's not armed, Stockwell. He's no danger to you. We're leaving. NOW."  
  
He saw Face had turned toward the stairs. What was he doing? Taking off the damn gloves?  
  
"Face! C'mon, Face. It's over. We're leaving here. Face!" There was no response.  
  
BA and Murdock moved simultaneously as Face dropped the second glove, raising his arms in surrender. Stockwell raised the pistol, pointing at Face. Hannibal started forward, pulling his own gun.  
  
"Don't do it, Stockwell!"  
  
Murdock scrambled for the light switch. Before coming to Stockwell's office, BA had done a little wire switching in the basement. They had expected problems from the Ables, but they hadn't figured Stockwell would pull a gun himself. Murdock mentally crossed his fingers.  
  
BA sprang for Face. He saw the grin on his face, heard him mumble something just before he grabbed him, hard and fast. They went down just as Murdock hit the light switch. The room suddenly flashed in brilliant light and went dark, electrical crackling all around. Someone fired off a couple shots. He heard Hannibal shouting; he couldn't tell from where. More shots. Ables were running into him and Face and themselves, not seeing who was where. BA dragged Face up; he was limp. BA had brought him down harder than he'd planned. Hoisting him over his shoulder, he headed in the direction of the front door. A moment later, he felt a hand on his other shoulder.  
  
"Worked like a charm, mudsucker! Let's go!"  
  
He and Murdock hurriedly worked their way through the confusion. The sparking had died down, but there were a few small fires along the wiring. The Ables had noticed it too and were now concentrating on those instead of the team.  
  
"Where's Hannibal?"  
  
"Don't know, big guy. He was heading toward Stockwell last I saw. Yelled at me to get out, he'd meet us outside." Murdock glanced back. He couldn't see anything but flashes and shadows. He was concerned, but not really worried. Hannibal knew what he was doing...he hoped.  
  
Murdock nearly ran into the door before he realized they were there. Grabbing the handle, he shoved through, BA with Face right behind him. They raced around the corner of the house, shouting at the confused incoming Ables to go help inside. The van doors stood open, ready to go. Murdock jumped in the back and grabbed Face as BA handed him off. In a moment the van's motor was roaring.  
  
"What about the Colonel?" Murdock was shouting in his excitement.  
  
"There!" BA yelled back, seeing the white haired figure running across the front lawn. Putting the van in gear, he tore across the grass. Hesitating only a moment so the Colonel could climb aboard, he swung the van down the tractor trail and out onto the road.  
  
BA and Murdock looked at Hannibal, who was breathing hard while reaching for his cigar. He gazed somberly at the road ahead of them.  
  
"Stockwell's no longer a problem. Let's get the hell out of here."  
  
*****  
  
He had been attacked. That's all that he remembered at the moment. He lay still, waiting, tensed. There was a gentle rocking motion, as if he were moving, yet not moving. It was dark, except for a faint light a few feet in front of him. He could sense, though not really see, people around him. And his head hurt.  
  
It was purely reflex. He wasn't even aware that someone had come close to him. But someone placed their fingers on the side of his neck and he exploded, grabbing the arm attached and shoving his other arm straight out, seeking the throat of the attacker. There was a shout, then everything rolled violently before coming to a sudden standstill. There were more people, more hands, voices. He fought with every bit of the little strength he had left but there were too many of them. He felt a sharp sting in his upper arm and within seconds he was enveloped in darkness.  
  
*****  
  
The three men sat, winded. Hannibal looked at Murdock.  
  
"You okay? He didn't..."  
  
"No, he was too out of it, I guess. I should have known better." He rubbed his wrist, looking worried. "How we gonna handle him all the way back to LA, Hannibal? It's gonna take 2-3 days and we can't just keep sedating him all the time."  
  
"No, we'll keep him under until we get to some out of the way place to stay tonight. Then we'll let him come to when we can have a little more control of things. We'll see how he is then."  
  
BA looked at him. "Y'know he was gonna just stand there and let Stockwell shoot him, don't ya? He was looking right at him, grinnin'. He ain't right, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal sighed. "I know, BA. I didn't realize just how bad things were until he walked into the office tonight. He was so determined to shoot Stockwell, he didn't even recognize me at first."  
  
"He gonna be all right, though. We'll get him straightened out agin." BA glared, daring anyone to argue.  
  
Murdock didn't say anything, but watched his friend, and worried.


	24. Chapter 24

They had left The Meadows sometime in the early early hours of the morning; since then they'd sedated Face twice and driven nearly 600 miles over 2 lane highways and back roads. When they passed through yet another sleepy little farm town and saw the whimsical sign "Y'All Come Inn", Hannibal decided they'd gone far enough.  
  
The inn consisted of a regular little strip motel, coupled with a half dozen small cabins set back in the woods. The cabins themselves consisted of two double beds and a kitchenette. It would be a bit cramped for four men, but it would also be secluded and quiet.  
  
"You can have your pick of the litter, mister. It's way past the end of the season, y'know. Most folks just take a room for the night and move on."  
  
Hannibal glanced at the calendar as he checked them in. He was shocked to discover it was December 15. He couldn't even remember where they had been at Thanksgiving. LA, or Langley? No, he thought, it had been Houston. God, between hotels and airports, they hadn't even realized...  
  
They pulled up to the farthest cabin. Hannibal and Murdock carried their few belongings in while BA brought Face, still in a drug induced sleep. After settling him on one of the two beds, his three teammates quietly discussed their next course of action.  
  
"I don't like havin' to keep him drugged, Hannibal. If he's gonna keep fightin' us..." BA began.  
  
"I don't think he will, Big Guy." Murdock finally decided he had to speak up. "After watching him last night, I don't think we're gonna have any trouble with him once he really wakes up. I don't think he'll have any fight left in him. I don't think he'll have much of anything left in him."  
  
"Wha'd'ya mean, fool? He's back with us now. He's gonna be okay."  
  
"Murdock's probably right, BA. Face thinks we hate him. He thinks we joined Stockwell. And he doesn't believe we'd forgive him. If he had really believed anything we told him last night, he wouldn't have given up to Stockwell." Hannibal puffed on his cigar, thinking deeply. "We'll stay here a day or so, see how he does. If he doesn't get violent, we'll start back to LA. I'll call Maggie, see if she can find someplace quiet for us to stay. But I think we'll plan on a light sedative, just the same." He was thinking of Houston.  
  
"He's gonna need help, Hannibal. Not just us, I mean. Professional help."  
  
This was going to be the really hard part.  
  
"I know, Murdock. But he's not going to get it."  
  
"What?! Hannibal..."  
  
"Murdock, what do you suppose would happen if we took Face to say, Dr. Richter, and told him, 'hey, doc, Face went overseas, killed three people, came back here, took hostages, wounded another one, tried to kill yet a fourth, and now he wants to die. Think you can help him?' How do you think that's gonna play, Captain?"  
  
There was dead silence.  
  
"God, Hannibal. I...I just don't know if we can do this on our own. There's so much at stake..."  
  
"I know. Unfortunately, thanks to Stockwell, Face is no better off now than he was before the pardon. We're right back where we used to be - it's us, or nothing."  
  
They had moved into the cabin in the late evening. Hannibal called Maggie, telling her only what he had to for now. They made coffee, settled in, tried to relax. Face started waking up around midnight. Having learned their lesson, the three men sat quietly, waiting for him.  
  
*****  
  
It was like trying to unravel himself from a tangled bed sheet, wrapped around and around and never ending. He felt he had almost broken free once, but the sheet had fought back, rebinding him. Now, he felt it giving way, grudgingly. The more it loosened, the more light was allowed in, the easier it was for him to breathe. Finally, the sheet was gone, he was free, and he slowly opened his eyes.  
  
He was looking at white. White pebbles. White pebbles? A ceiling. Okay. He was in a room, then. On a bed. Where? He couldn't remember...A man on a street...his head exploded...no, that wasn't right...that was somewhere else...someone stepping on him...in tall grass...when...a knife...no...somewhere else again...some time else...white pebbles...a white haired man...Hannibal?...Hannibal...Stockwell.  
  
He eyes snapped wide open. He bolted upright, glancing wildly around - where was he? Where was Stockwell? Hannibal?  
  
"Take it easy, Face. You're okay. You're safe. We're here with you."  
  
He heard Murdock's voice - there, next to the bed. Looking at him, eyes worried. Murdock had come from the curtains. Like a ghost. Materialized beside him.  
  
He looked around - BA, too, at the foot. BA. BA had knocked him down. Stockwell. Stockwell going to shoot him. He'd waited for it. BA had knocked him down. BA had stopped him.  
  
Where was Hannibal? Hannibal had forgiven him. Hadn't he? Where was he? Only the other two... Where are you, Hannibal? He had...hadn't he? Had he? Hannibal? Hannibal!  
  
"I'm here, kid." Hannibal moved out of the glare of the lamp, closer to the bed. He held out his hand, tentatively.  
  
Face grabbed the hand, the arm, the shoulder. He felt Hannibal pull him in, and he held on for his life. Forgive me...please...please...please...


	25. Chapter 25

"Okay, ma'am, just sign these and you're all set to go." The clerk smiled brightly, hoping to bring a little cheer to the patient.  
  
The patient wasn't cooperating. Glaring at the hopeful perkiness, she scribbled her signature on the bottom of at least six pages and shoved them back. As the clerk scurried from the room, Carla slid out of the bed and grabbed her clothes from the closet. Thank God someone had had them cleaned and mended.  
  
She took a cab directly to the office. She was not surprised to find it almost empty of personnel, even though not even 24 hours had passed. Only the last of the clean up crew were still around. A couple of them nodded to her as she swept by on her way to Stockwell's office. Correction. Stockwell's former office.  
  
Hers now.  
  
She would have new people coming in within hours. Different people. People loyal to her. Who would do what she told them, when she told them, and without question. She had a lot of damage control to take care of, a lot of fence mending. A lot of planning.  
  
There was also a little matter of that hole in her shoulder...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had at first been relieved when Face reached for him. That was a good sign, right? But then he realized that Face was hanging on too tightly; his body wasn't trembling - it was shaking, violently shaking. He had yet to say anything other than one mumbled "Hannibal". The man was in a full blown panic.  
  
Hannibal looked to a wide-eyed Murdock and stunned BA, helpless. The pilot immediately went for their medical bag. BA moved toward Hannibal, wanting to help, not sure how. At the same time, Hannibal started gently to disengage Face, trying to make eye contact. Face immediately let go, shoving himself back and away, up against the headboard. His eyes were pain filled and wild and Hannibal knew he'd just made the first mistake. He tried to reconcile this turbulent Face, with the long, untamed hair and beard, with the smooth, almost fussily neat Face he'd known before. He couldn't do it.  
  
He reached out again, hoping to reconnect. Face nearly fell off the bed trying to get away. Murdock raced over to the other side of the bed, syringe in hand. As Face went flying toward the door, BA grabbed him around the waist. There were a few moments of continued struggle before the sedative once again did its job and Face slid moaning to the floor.  
  
Damn.  
  
BA was kneeling on the floor, arms still around the limp body. He glared at Hannibal and Murdock. Neither of them could return his look. He looked down at Face, the glare dissolving as he hugged him a little closer.  
  
"Well, that went well." Murdock's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Score one for 'no professionals', huh, Colonel?"  
  
"That'll be enough, Captain." Hannibal was not about to get into a debate about that issue. "You want to see him in a prison psych ward until they can shove the needle in, you go get your damn professional. Accept it. It's not gonna happen!"  
  
*****  
  
BA had his own ideas about Face. And one thing he knew for sure. Neither Hannibal nor Murdock were gonna "stick" him again. The poor guy was pumped so full of stuff it was no wonder he didn't know which side was up when he came to. Sure, it was a lot easier when he was out cold, but that didn't make it right. If he had to throw the other two out of the cabin, he was gonna make sure Face got all that out of his system before they moved another inch. He didn't care if the cabin was a shambles when they left. And that's exactly what he'd told Hannibal.  
  
He was sitting on the bed, near, but not touching, Face. He knew the other two saw this as some kind of challenge to them to stay away, and they didn't like it, but that was okay. It had never bothered him to use his bulk to his advantage. He also thought that if he was right there when Face started coming to, then maybe Face wouldn't be so scared. And that's all he was now, really; just plain scared.  
  
He knew there was a lot of stuff going on in Face's head, lots of stuff he didn't understand, but he'd seen it before. They all had. It had just been a long time. And mostly, they hadn't had to deal with it first hand. Even Murdock had been in the VA most of the bad time. Now they had to really deal with it. And he knew that Hannibal and Murdock were gonna lock horns more than once while they were at it. That was okay. He'd be there to make sure they didn't go too far with that. And to make sure they didn't hurt their friend in the process. Just like now. This was BA's job. Protectin him. That was somethin he understood.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was outside the cabin, leaning against the van, puffing slowly at his cigar. He was watching the stars. There was something soothing about that. God's in his heaven, all's right with the world. Maybe if he kept saying that, he'd believe it.  
  
He was trying to not think about Face. About that fiasco of earlier in the night. He should have held onto him. Just let him hang on as tight as he wanted. Sometimes, maybe, that's all anyone really needed. Just someone to hang on to. Well, hell, live and learn. Hannibal was an action person. He'd have to learn to mellow - some. There'd be a lot more mistakes made over the next months. (Months. Yeah, it was going to be a long haul.) Hopefully they'd do more things right than they'd screw up. They had to. He was dead set in his conviction that they couldn't take Face to a shrink. Not a reputable one, anyway. There were laws. Doctors had to report criminal acts. Like murder. And that would have to come into it. Could hardly help a man cope with guilt if they didn't know why he felt guilty.  
  
Hannibal threw the stub on the ground. Man, it was cold. He couldn't believe they'd been so lost in this thing they hadn't even noticed the season. Lost was the watch word, all right. They'd been behind the eight ball from the git go on this whole damn mess. Right up until that very last night at Stockwell's... Hannibal would not dwell on that. What had to be done was done. End of story.  
  
He looked at the cabin. He should go in soon. He needed to talk to Murdock. They had to get straight. Hell, they were all exhausted, physically and emotionally. That was one reason he kept sedating Face. Maybe it wasn't the best thing for him right now, but, damn it, he had to think of the whole team, too. He knew Murdock was right on the edge and he wasn't much better. They needed a little down time. That's why he'd decided to stop in here for a few days. Just let everyone wind down a bit. And if that meant drugging the man, well...damn.  
  
In the morning, he'd get a second cabin. Two would stay with Face. The third would get a quiet place to relax and sleep undisturbed. Two or three days like that, they'd all be ready to move on.  
  
Feeling better for having a plan, if only a simple one, Hannibal strode back inside. He'd make sure the team was taken care. That's what he did best.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had watched as BA took control. He'd lifted Face up and got him re-settled on the bed, and with another glare at Hannibal and Murdock, sat right on the bed beside him, daring anyone to come near them. He had then proceeded to tell them both that they could toss their 'dope' down the toilet because it wasn't going into Face again. Hannibal had tried to reason with him, but it was useless. It was at that point that Murdock left.  
  
He knew that both BA and Hannibal were doing what they thought was right for Face. He couldn't really blame them for that. But they really had no idea what they were dealing with. He knew. He'd spent nearly 20 years finding out. Who else would know enough? No one they could go to.  
  
Murdock knew Hannibal was right about that. No reputable doctor would put his career on the line for a murderer. That just didn't happen. But nothing said Murdock couldn't 'consult' with Dr. Richter, as long as he didn't know - or guess - what had happened. Or that it was Face they were talking about. Yeah, he could get around that stuff. He'd have to.  
  
He sighed deeply. He should have seen this blowup coming. He'd seen it in so many families at the VA. The stress would get to them and they would implode, fighting among themselves. Sometimes they were able to work it out; sometimes not. This family had to.


	26. Chapter 26

He felt the man stirring beside him. Very carefully he placed his own hand on the man's and let it lay. He looked over at Hannibal, in gentle warning. Hannibal nodded in acknowledgment - they were doing this BA's way this time.  
  
A slight trembling started; BA pressed the hand lightly. Quieted. Eyes opening, dull, unfocused. BA started talking quietly, using his name, telling him where he was, that he was safe, he didn't have to do anything, go back to sleep if he wanted to, he wouldn't be alone, he was safe, BA would keep him safe. A deep sigh, the eyes closed once more.  
  
BA smirked, nodded at Hannibal, and closed his own eyes.  
  
*****  
  
Face slept nearly 36 hours straight. It was the heavy drug-induced sleep at first. As the sedatives slowly leeched out of his system, he began stirring more often. Each time BA talked softly, and let him drift back into a more normal slumber.  
  
Hannibal had gotten the second cabin and Murdock had taken the first break. Everyone had been calmer when he and Murdock had returned last night. They all realized, as Murdock had, that each one had their own ideas about what was best for Face and they would have to work them out together. They couldn't let their own stress and worry affect their team work again. It was an acknowledgment of each other's strengths and contributions to the cause. There would be disagreements; there would be no more splits.  
  
They had agreed on two things. Face would not be drugged unless he became violent; he could not be allowed to injure another member of the team. The other was that Face would not be told that Stockwell was dead, or by whose hand. None of them wanted to deal with that issue. Not yet.  
  
BA finally allowed Face to come fully awake. Murdock was with him then, Hannibal catching his sleep in the other cabin. It was much more peaceful this time. He looked around him, warily, but without the combativeness or the panic of the earlier episodes. His eyes finally rested on the big man beside him.  
  
"Hey Face. 'Bout time you woke up. You okay?"  
  
"Yeah." He coughed. He sat up slowly, looking around again. He saw Murdock, sitting on the other bed. Eyed him doubtfully for a moment, then nodded. Murdock grinned at him.  
  
"Welcome back, Face."  
  
"Yeah." Face's voice was flat, uninterested. Murdock looked closely. The eyes were still dull, expressionless. Okay, not what he had hoped, but at least he wasn't trying to run away.  
  
"I guess you must be kinda hungry, huh? Tell you what. Why don't you go on in and take a shower, get yourself cleaned up a bit, and I'll get us some breakfast."  
  
"Ok." Face sat for a moment longer, then moved to get off the bed. He swayed badly and BA grabbed his elbow. Face stiffened and BA let go.  
  
"Get your legs under you first, man. I'm just gonna come along, case you need some help getting there. Ok?"  
  
"Ok." He moved slowly toward the bathroom, eyes watching the floor, occasionally needing BA's arm to grab, and finally reached his destination. He started to close the door, but BA gently held it.  
  
"Just till we know you're okay on your feet, Face, let's leave the door open a bit. Ok?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
*****  
  
The water was as hot as he could get it, which wasn't very hot at all. He stood beneath it, eyes closed, letting it beat on his skin. He wondered why Hannibal wasn't there with the other two. They didn't say anything about him. Maybe he'd left him.  
  
He'd been a fool to think Hannibal had forgiven him. That he would take him back. When the colonel had pushed him away, Face finally had to accept the fact. If anything, he'd gotten him away from Stockwell for the General's safety. Now, Face was with the team out of their sense of obligation. How long would that last?  
  
He thought about BA. BA had said he would keep him safe. Safe from what? Or who? If Face had been accepted back by the team, why would he need protection? What did BA know that Face didn't?  
  
He wished he knew where Hannibal was.  
  
Murdock made him nervous. He wasn't sure why. The pilot had looked at him funny. Like he was trying to see into him. Spooky. He didn't want anybody looking inside him. Especially not Murdock. Murdock knew him too well already. No, Murdock was to be avoided.  
  
He came out of the shower feeling stronger. He'd really been dizzy when he first got up. How long had he been out of things? He looked for his clothes and had a second's panic when he didn't see them. Someone had taken them. There was a pile of clothes next to the sink. He picked through them - all in his size. His gloves. Gone. Was that how they planned it? He took a deep breath. Ok. He would handle it. He had to. He put the clothes on and moved out of the bathroom.  
  
The first thing he saw was Hannibal. Sitting in the only chair. Of course. He looked at Murdock, sitting on one side of the second bed. BA sat on the other. They were all looking at him. Had he grown a second head or something? He saw the breakfast tray by his bed. He wasn't really hungry. Don't make waves. Not now. He sat down and started eating. It was hard. He couldn't look at his hands but he couldn't let them see his weakness, either.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Face saw Hannibal look at BA; BA looked at Murdock; Murdock shrugged at them both. Wondering what they were going to do with him now? Or did they have that planned out already? Is that why they'd kept the gloves, was that part of it? Did they already know? Was that why BA was going to keep him safe? Was BA part of it, or not? God, he was getting so confused.  
  
Hannibal said something about going back to LA. He hadn't really been listening. LA? Getting him as far from Stockwell as he could? Ok. It could wait.  
  
"Ok." He went back to the eggs. He sensed that somehow Hannibal expected something more from him. Sorry. He had nothing more to give.


	27. Chapter 27

Time passed slowly and awkwardly. Face spoke to no one and responded only as absolutely required. BA just took it as it happened; he made no demands on Face, appeared to have no expectations other than he didn't try anything "stupid". Hannibal was definitely having problems. Murdock understood that. Hannibal had expected some kind of emotional scene, anger, sorrow, fear - something. But the total shut down he was confronted with left him clueless as to what to do. And Hannibal liked to "do" things. With Murdock, he could play along or bring him back down to earth, depending on the circumstances. With Face, there was just nothing there to work with.  
  
BA had gone to the other cabin. He'd slept on and off since coming to the motel, but hadn't really had a good sleep, waking every time Face had stirred. He'd given them one last look before going - a reminder about the sedatives.  
  
Face certainly gave no indication he might tempt them to drug him. He sat on the bed, back against the headboard, hands in his pockets, and either watched the opposite wall or just closed his eyes. He wasn't sleeping; he was just closing the doors. Murdock noticed, with a little concern, that every time Hannibal moved, Face would jerk, just a little, and watch him. Once Hannibal settled again, so did Face. As to himself, Face seemed to almost consciously ignore the pilot. Murdock would make a comment or joke, looking right at him, and Face would just look back at him for a moment and then close the doors again.  
  
It seemed that Face was only comfortable around BA. And Murdock found that interesting. Was it that BA had continually promised to keep Face safe throughout all those hours? If that were the case, did that mean he didn't feel safe with either Murdock or Hannibal? That thought was unnerving.  
  
He was tempted to try and talk to Face about 'things' that afternoon, but decided, especially considering his thoughts about Face's feelings toward him, that it was too early for that. He would try to draw him out, get him to at least respond to questions, but that was all. From the way things were going, that might be miracle enough for today.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had read the local rag four times so far. He kept trying to find little odds and ends in it to tell Face about, trying to engage him in some kind of conversation. But no matter how funny, or odd, or just plain dumb the articles were, Face had no response at all. In fact, the only time Face even moved was when Hannibal would shift in his chair, or get up for yet more coffee - in fact, any time Hannibal moved, Face was watching him. It was unsettling and certainly didn't help Hannibal's restlessness. Finally he'd had enough.  
  
"Murdock, Face, I think we need to get out of this cabin for a while. Get your coats, we're going for a hike."  
  
Murdock was immediately up for it. It would do them all good to move around, get some fresh air. Maybe they'd even get Face to open up a little, looking at the new sights of the small town.  
  
Face looked at the two of them, almost suspiciously. What was that about? They were going for a walk, for chrissake. Hannibal looked at him again.  
  
"Coming, Face?"  
  
"Ok." Without another word or look, Face slowly took the coat Murdock held out for him and headed for the door. Hannibal scribbled a quick note for BA and followed.  
  
The motel was right on the edge of the little town, which was your typical little farming community. While Hannibal had said 'hike', it was really just a leisurely stroll down the main street. Which was all of five blocks long. As one would expect, there was a drug store, a small grocery, two hardware stores, a bakery, a bank, and various small tourist traps. At the opposite end of the street were rival implement dealers. Turning out of the business district, they wandered through street after street of large older houses. The further out they moved, the smaller and more modern the houses became. Then it ended abruptly in farm fields. Here they stopped, watching a small herd of beef cattle grazing among the corn stalks.  
  
"This could be a good kind of life," Hannibal mused. Murdock looked at him, surprised. He got a smile in return.  
  
"I grew up in a place like this. You knew who everybody was, what they did, why they did it. If you looked far enough, you could find a family connection of some sort among damn near every resident. It wasn't Joe Blow - it was Ed Blow's kid, Joe. You knew who someone was by who their family was."  
  
Face shifted slightly, watching the cows.  
  
Damn.  
  
Hannibal was beginning to think he was going to be the biggest problem in Face's recovery. He couldn't seem to do or say anything right any more. No matter how innocent or well meaning, it got screwed up.  
  
"I'll bet you had the ol' swimming hole, and tipped over outhouses and everything, huh, Hannibal?" Murdock, God bless you, coming to the rescue.  
  
"Yeah, we had the swimming hole. No outhouses - I'm not that ancient." Hannibal grinned. "But things were a lot simpler. Not just the times. The people. Small towns are like that. Oh, sure, there are your little battles and scandals, but everyone knows about them and it doesn't really mean anything. People don't take that stuff seriously. They aren't running around trying to beat out the other guy. I don't know; they just seem to enjoy life more."  
  
It was getting cold again. The afternoon had drifted by without them really noticing. BA would probably be having a fit; Hannibal's note said they'd be back in a couple of hours. They'd already been gone nearly twice that. Murdock and Hannibal tried to hurry, but Face just shuffled along at the same pace, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head down, watching his feet move, one after the other. He hadn't looked around the whole afternoon except when they had actually come to a full stop. He might just as well have paced in the cabin.  
  
By the time they reached the cabin, they were all chilled. Except BA. He was steamed. Once they got past his murderous glare, Hannibal and Murdock almost laughed at the solicitous way the big man hovered over Face. He had immediately asked Face if he was okay, and surprisingly, Face had responded with "I'm fine." After that, BA relaxed but still kept an eye on his charge.  
  
Murdock and Hannibal had exchanged glances at Face's sudden fit of speech. What was it with him and BA? What was it about themselves that Face didn't trust? And how were they going to breach that gap?


	28. Chapter 28

By the next day everyone had had a chance to catch up on their sleep and regain their energy. It started snowing early in the morning with more predicted, and Hannibal decided it was time to head back to LA before they got delayed in the mountains. He was also getting a bit anxious about staying in one place too long, not yet knowing what repercussions might be coming from The Meadows.  
  
They gathered their belongings and loaded the van. They had a bit of a problem with Face at that point. For some reason, he didn't want to get into the van. He didn't put up a fight or argue. He just stood still. Stiff. Once again, it was BA to the rescue. Murdock watched closely as BA spoke quietly to him, and again, Face actually responded, although too softly for Murdock to hear. After a moment's hesitation, BA nodded his head and stepped over to Murdock and Hannibal.  
  
"I don't know what's going on with him, but he doesn't want any guns in the van. I said we could lock them all up in the chest, and that's okay. But he won't get in if any of us is carrying."  
  
"I don't like that, BA. We don't know who might be coming after us. I don't want to be caught unarmed. And the chest is too hard to get at from inside."  
  
"I'm not gonna force him, Hannibal. We can keep a sharp eye out for tails. We see anything wrong at all, we can pull off and load up. They don't know we came up this way anyway."  
  
Hannibal shook his head, but reluctantly agreed. The three men locked away the handguns they had been carrying and Face got into the van without further incident.  
  
The van was as silent as the cabin had been. Face closed his eyes and pretended not to hear anything that was said to him. After a few futile attempts, even Murdock gave up.  
  
Face's behavior was worrying him, badly. With this latest incident, Face had clearly shown that not only did he not trust him or Hannibal, but he was actually fearful that one or both of them intended to harm him. And if he felt that way, they were dead in the water.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and BA kept exchanging glances throughout that first day's drive. Both knew the other wanted to talk, but they couldn't. Not with Face sitting behind them. When they stopped for lunch and again for supper, Face stayed close to BA. Not clinging to him, as he seemed to want to keep his personal space pretty wide, but keeping him within reach. It wasn't until they stopped at another motel for the night that BA and Hannibal had a chance to be by themselves.  
  
BA told Face to go with Murdock to their rooms, assuring him that he would be along in a few minutes. Face was reluctant, but acquiesced. He looked back once, noting that Hannibal was not coming either, and then followed Murdock.  
  
The two men looked at each other, both concerned and puzzled.  
  
"What the hell is going on, BA? Why is Face afraid of me? And Murdock he just ignores as much as he can. Has he said anything to you about it?"  
  
"Nothin, Hannibal. He mostly answers me when I ask him a question, but he don't volunteer. The only thing I can figure is that first night, when he was so scared of everything. He might still be thinking about that. But he acts like he thinks you're gonna do somethin bad to him, and that I can't understand at all. Even if he's not thinking straight, he should know better'n that."  
  
"Any suggestions, BA?"  
  
"Talk to him, Hannibal. I think you should sit down and talk to him. Let him know you've noticed how he's actin and tell him straight out you're not gonna do anything to hurt him. Maybe he'll listen, maybe he won't. But it'll give him somethin to think about."  
  
"Yeah, I think you're right. Put the cards on the table." They started toward the room. "I'm thinking we should drive straight through to LA after tonight. We're all rested up well enough. The sooner we get some place permanent the sooner we can start getting his head straight."  
  
"Okay, Hannibal. Got no problem with that."  
  
*****  
  
Murdock and BA were sitting in the corner of the room, discussing the menu. They were going to order pizza delivered to the room and the usual argument over ingredients had ensued. Face was sitting on the bed, in his usual position, back up against the headboard, hands stuffed in his pockets. The TV was on and he was staring at the screen, but no one knew if he was actually watching it. His expression never changed regardless of what went on onscreen. Hannibal had been sitting at the desk, ostensibly reading the local newspaper, but in reality he was building up the courage to approach Face. He'd been doing such a grand job of screwing things up with him he was actually nervous.  
  
BA had told Murdock very briefly what he and Hannibal had planned. He was afraid Murdock would veto it but was relieved when Murdock endorsed it enthusiastically. He too felt Hannibal had to let Face know that no one was going to do anything to harm him, especially Hannibal.  
  
So BA and Murdock moved to the corner and started their arguing, prolonging it so Face wouldn't realize they were setting him up. And eventually Hannibal stood up and went over to the opposite side of the bed Face was on.  
  
"Mind if I sit, Face?"  
  
Face tried to ignore him. If he didn't respond, maybe he would just go away. He would want Face to talk, and Face didn't want to talk. He just wanted to be left alone. He glanced over at BA, but the big guy was arguing with Murdock.  
  
Hannibal saw the glance and sighed. Face wasn't going to make this easy at all. Deciding he had to take the bull by the horns, he sat on the bed. Wrong move.  
  
The minute Hannibal sat down, Face was up. No way. Way too close there. Within reach. No way. He backed up as far as he could, which was, unfortunately, only a couple feet. Then he was up against the wall. He was trying not to panic. He didn't know why Hannibal's move had scared him, but it had and he wanted out.  
  
BA and Murdock were immediately up. Hannibal stay seated, waving them back. This had gone on long enough. He would try to calm Face down, but he was also going to make sure the kid knew that Hannibal would never ever hurt him. He had to get that through to him.  
  
"Take it easy, Face. I'm not coming any closer. I'm going to sit right here and talk. That's all. Just talk. Ok?"  
  
Face looked to BA. BA nodded back. This was okay? Hannibal was between them. Face didn't like that. Not at all. But BA said it was okay. Face took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, just a bit. He wanted to be ready, just in case. He looked back at Hannibal.  
  
"Ok."  
  
Hannibal sat quiet for a moment. BA and Murdock slowly sat down, trying to make Face realize that this was not a major deal. They had to be calm if he was going to settle down.  
  
"Face, I'm not sure what's going on here with you and me." Hannibal talked softly but firmly. He didn't want to appear pleading. Face had to understand that he meant every word he was saying. "For some reason, you have the idea that I may try to hurt you in some way. I don't know where that came from, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you, Face. Never. I would not lie to you, you know that. I will not hurt you. You have my word of honor on that."  
  
Face just looked at him. Hannibal wouldn't lie to him? What about the forgiveness, Hannibal? What about Stockwell, Colonel? What about the set up with Carla, Colonel? Face could feel himself getting angry. Real angry. He hadn't felt anything for a couple of days and now all he was feeling was anger. He clenched his hands tightly. Control them.  
  
Just go away, Hannibal. Go away and leave me alone.  
  
Hannibal looked at him some more. Finally he said, "Are we straight with that, Face? 'Cause if we aren't, we gotta get it straight. We can't keep going like this any more, okay?"  
  
"Go away."  
  
Hannibal sighed. He guessed that could be considered progress. At least it was something more than 'ok'. He knew Face didn't believe him yet, but at least he'd said it. Like BA had said, it would give him something to think about.  
  
Hannibal got up slowly and went back to the chair. He casually picked up the newspaper and started reading. He would give Face all the space he needed. No pressure.  
  
Murdock and BA took their cue. They went back to discussing the pizza, and calmly placed the order. Face stayed at the wall, watching them. He felt the anger slowly draining away. After a few minutes, assured that no one was making any further moves toward him, he slowly sat back in position on the bed and closed his eyes. When the pizza arrived, he ignored it. He fell asleep sitting up.


	29. Chapter 29

Hannibal's talk with Face had no apparent effect. The next morning he kept his distance from both the Colonel and Murdock. Unfortunately, he began to look at BA with a certain degree of wariness also. Was he thinking of BA's 'complicity' in last night's confrontation? BA knew he had to nip that in the bud. As they were loading the van, BA managed to maneuver Face off to the side.  
  
"Face, you remember I told you I would keep you safe? You remember me saying that?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Have I ever lied to you, Face? Ever?"  
  
Face looked him in the eye. No, BA had never lied to him. BA didn't have it in him to lie.  
  
"No."  
  
"So don't you start shuttin me out, you hear? I don't know what your problem is with Hannibal or Murdock. Neither one of them would do anything to hurt you, and you know that. But that don't matter right now. Cause you and me, we got no problem. And we ain't gonna, are we? Cause we trust each other, right?"  
  
BA could have sworn tears formed in Face's eyes. An instant later they were clear.  
  
"Right, BA." And Face turned away and got in the van.  
  
BA sighed. This was not turning out the way they had planned it. Instead of sharing the weight of Face's healing, it was landing squarely on BA's shoulders. He would not shrug it off, but he was worried he wouldn't be able to do the job. It would fall on him to get Face to trust Hannibal and Murdock again. And since he didn't know why the trust was gone, it was going to be a very hard task.  
  
*****  
  
As planned, they drove straight through to LA. Each day a repeat of the day before. Face talked to no one, responded to no one, except BA. If asked to do something, he did it. Otherwise he sat and watched out the window, or slept - or pretended to. Finally, on the morning of the second day, they pulled gratefully into Bad Rock.  
  
As they pulled up to Maggie's house, they saw her standing on the front steps, waving. She trotted up to the van, smiling her welcome. Despite what Hannibal had told her of their problem, she was determined to act as normally as possible. She knew how easy it was to become bogged down in the stress.  
  
"Hi, Maggie." Hannibal gave her a quick hug, spirits raised by her smile.  
  
"Hi, John. Welcome back."  
  
Murdock and BA joined them, greeting Maggie warmly.  
  
Then she turned to greet Face and was shocked by what she saw. He stood back, silently watching from the side of the van. That in itself was so totally unlike Face it took her aback. She took in his hair, much longer and disordered than she had ever seen it. The beard nearly matched his hair in its unruliness. The eyes peering at her, emotionless except for suspicion. He was terribly thin, to her mind. Probably not eating much even now. She could feel the tension radiating from him. She glanced at Hannibal. No wonder they all looked so tired. Living with...this...for the last week. She felt a surge of sadness for the four of them.  
  
She stepped over to Face. He straightened, and she saw near panic come into his eyes. Dear God, Face, she thought, what has happened to you?  
  
"Hello, Face. I'm glad to see you again. I've missed you." She smiled warmly.  
  
Not a word.  
  
"I imagine you guys are ready for some good home cooking, huh? Why don't you come with me, Face, and we'll get you all some breakfast." She held out her hand and waited.  
  
Face watched her hand. He didn't want to be here. This was Hannibal's territory. Maggie was a doctor; doctors meant drugs and questions and he wanted neither. He looked at BA. Although BA nodded back at him, he didn't move. Maybe BA didn't know as much as he thought he did. Maggie still held her hand out to him. She had never hurt him. She'd always helped the team when they needed it. All of them. She wasn't coming any closer, just kept holding out that hand. His choice. His space. Ok.  
  
He looked at her, at her hand, back to her face. She understood. She dropped her hand, smiled, turned and started walking toward the house. Face followed. They had a truce.  
  
*****  
  
One would almost have thought there was nothing wrong in the world. Murdock and Maggie were chatting away in the kitchen, wonderful breakfast smells filling the house. Hannibal wandered happily back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table, while BA gathered chairs and generally did whatever else needed doing. There was good natured teasing between the four of them, and they all were relaxing for the first time in months.  
  
Face sat in the living room, listening. He would've liked to join in with the others. It all sounded so...normal. Like old times. He would have been right there, trading insults with Murdock, teasing Maggie, laughing. A real laugh. He would like to join them, but he couldn't. He couldn't make his body move into those rooms. He didn't belong in there any more. He wasn't part of that. Not after what he had done. So he sat and listened and looked out the window, staring at nothing.  
  
BA was standing next to him, saying something. He hadn't even heard him come into the room. Where the hell had his mind been? That could've been anybody coming up on him. Planning anything. Stupid. He had to keep on top of things. He looked up at BA.  
  
BA had been surprised that Face hadn't reacted to his coming up to him. Maybe the kid was finally starting to relax, let all those guards down a bit. That would be good. Yeah, or maybe he's just movin more into his own little world. And that wouldn't be good.  
  
"C'mon, Face, let's eat."  
  
*****  
  
Maggie was telling them about the house she'd found for them. It was on a small farmstead, about 15 acres, not quite a mile out of Bad Rock. The farm was no longer in operation, but belonged to a professional couple. It was a large house, five bedrooms, old fashioned country kitchen, and even a large library. The owners were leaving for Europe due to the husband's job. They were willing to lease it at a reasonable price, glad to have someone to keep an eye on it. It sounded ideal. The couple was leaving the following week, so the team would stay at Maggie's until then. They would move in the day after Christmas.  
  
Maggie had been watching Face throughout breakfast, as he stared a hole through the middle of the table. He was absently brushing the hair away from his face, or smoothing his beard, closing his eyes in seeming irritation each time. Something needed to be done about that, she decided. He wasn't looking himself and he needed to. He needed to get himself back, and that would be a good way to start. Consequently, as the others were clearing the table after breakfast, she moved over towards him.  
  
"Face, this is probably none of my business, but I was thinking you might feel a little better if you had a haircut. I'm not exactly Beverly Hills trained, but I think I could do a fair job. If you'd like me to, that is."  
  
Face looked at her, impassive. A haircut. He didn't care, really. It meant she'd have to get closer to him than he liked. He didn't want anyone very close. But again, Maggie had never hurt him. She'd given him his space earlier. She wasn't telling him she was going to cut his hair. She was asking him. Well, maybe. He could always leave if it got to be too much.  
  
"Ok."  
  
She could almost hear the sound of three jaws hitting the floor...  
  
*****  
  
Maggie made sure the guys knew they were not welcome on the back porch, where she had chosen to give Face his shearing. It was sunny and warm, and large enough that Face wouldn't feel overly confined. She had whispered to Hannibal on her way out to make sure an electric razor was in the bathroom. She crossed her fingers at him, letting him know she didn't hold out a lot of hope, but maybe. As she closed the door behind her, Hannibal, BA and Murdock grinned at each other. Leave it to Maggie.  
  
Face was having second thoughts about this. He really didn't care what he looked like. But Maggie was putting herself out for them all, so he would go along with her on this. But the first sweep of the wet comb through his hair sent him up off the stool and over to the porch window.  
  
Maggie sighed. It was a good thing she'd rearranged her schedule for the day. She might be at this for quite some time.  
  
"It's okay, Face. We'll take it slow. Only what you're comfortable with."  
  
He stood very still. Minutes passed. His heart was racing, and he knew this was stupid. But he couldn't help it. He didn't know what to do about it. So he just stood still until his heart slowed. Taking a deep breath, he sat back on the stool and steeled himself.  
  
Maggie sighed in relief. Almost two hours. Not bad, considering how many times she'd had to stop and wait for him to calm down. But at last his haircut was done. It had been quite a while since his last flight, so maybe he was ready for the beard.  
  
"Okay, Face. That's done. Now, you know, that beard doesn't really fit you, does it? If you'd like, and as long as we're all set up here anyway, I can trim that down for you. And when that's done, you can go on in and shave the rest of it off. I think you'd feel more like yourself that way, don't you?"  
  
This woman didn't know when to quit. But he really did hate the beard. It wasn't his. It belonged to that other person, the one who...  
  
"Ok."  
  
It was a neatly trimmed, clean shaven Face who sat down to lunch. The first tiny step toward really bringing him home.


	30. Chapter 30

Hannibal had been very happy with Maggie's success that morning. And yet, it had been a shock to see just how gaunt and pale Face actually was. He seemed to have aged 10 years, at least. Watching him at lunch, he realized how stressful the morning had been for his friend. He barely touched his meal, and seemed on the verge of falling asleep right at the table. It took only a word from BA for Face to go upstairs to sleep. But, BA reported when he came down, he had been alert enough to lock the bedroom door. Two steps forward, one step back.  
  
They briefly talked about removing the lock. BA vetoed it immediately.  
  
"You take the lock off now and you can forget about him ever trusting you again, Hannibal. You'd be taking away his security. Can't do that, man."  
  
"He is safe up there, isn't he? I mean..." Hannibal hesitated to say it out loud.  
  
"You don't have to worry about him hurting himself. Not yet." Maggie looked solemn. "Right now he doesn't have the energy to do anything, and he doesn't really care one way or the other. Once he's on medication, then you need to keep a close watch on him."  
  
"That doesn't make sense, Maggie. The antidepressants are supposed to bring him out of it, aren't they? So why..."  
  
Maggie looked at Hannibal sympathetically. They had discussed Face openly with her earlier. Well, almost openly. Hannibal had made it clear that Maggie was not to be told any details as to how Face got into this condition. Hannibal did not want to put her in a compromising position with the authorities. She had seen enough to know what kind of help Face would need from her. But there were so many things to try to understand, and so many were contradictory. Part of her job would be helping Murdock make them understand.  
  
"The meds will help him, John. But there's a time frame where the depression isn't really lifted, but his energy level is. And it's when he's got that energy that's he's most likely to try something. He's going to recognize how depressed he is, basically. And have more clear thoughts about what got him there. And he's going to want to put an end to all of that pain. If we get him past that, then suicide's not so much of a worry."  
  
"What d'ya mean, if we get him past that? You think we're gonna let him kill hisself? No way, Maggie!" BA was furious just at the thought.  
  
"BA, I know we'll all do what we can. But people in that situation can be very devious. They know what they want to do, and they will do whatever they can to accomplish it. And we are talking about Face. He's not going to be easy to outwit, if he decides that's what he wants. I believe we can do it, but it's going to be very hard.  
  
"However, we don't have to worry about that right now. We haven't even talked to him about taking meds. And it takes time for them to build up enough in the system to have any kind of effect. So we have plenty of time to deal with possibilities. In the meantime, we need to get him involved in as many so-called normal pursuits as possible. It shouldn't be too difficult. He seems to do whatever he's told, unless he feels threatened by it."  
  
"Yeah, he's like a robot most of the time. Either does what he's told, or just sits there. It ain't like him at all."  
  
"That's 'cause he doesn't want to think for himself, BA." Murdock was thinking back to his own dark days. "If you make yourself think, about anything, your mind starts going places you don't want it to. Places you aren't ready to deal with. So it's kind of a self-preservation thing. If you put your mind on hold, you don't go to those dark places. And then you're safe. So Face is keeping himself safe. A robot doesn't feel things. Can't feel, can't hurt. The only time Face acts on his own is when he feels threatened. And that's just basic survival instinct kicking in."  
  
"He thinks we're out to hurt him, Murdock. Isn't that thinking for himself?" Hannibal sounded almost angry.  
  
"No, that's just an idea he's got planted in there. How I don't know. But he's not really thinking about it - if he did, I don't think it would last. But because he doesn't think about it, it just sits there and festers and clouds everything for him."  
  
"So what do we do for now?" Hannibal, the action guy, was getting impatient. He wanted to know what was going on with Face, but it was sounding like there wasn't a lot to actually 'do'.  
  
"For today, we let him sleep. He's pretty stressed out. For tomorrow - you're going to take him out and get us a tree."  
  
Maggie smiled at the startled looks her newest plan received.


	31. Chapter 31

Maggie sat quietly in her living room and watched as her house guests got up. She wanted to get an idea of how they were going to set up their daily routine. She had guessed that, with the possible exception of Murdock, they really had no idea of how complicated their lives were going to get. Probably not even Murdock had considered everything.  
  
Hannibal came down first, followed closely by BA. Murdock arrived within a few minutes. No sign of Face. The three men talked quietly among themselves, starting coffee, getting breakfast. Hannibal came in and announced that breakfast was ready and she joined them at the table. It was as she had suspected.  
  
"Where's Face?" she asked innocently.  
  
Hannibal looked at her. "Sleeping. Why?"  
  
"What time does he get up?"  
  
Hannibal looked at her again, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "It depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
Hannibal set his fork down. BA and Murdock were looking at her quizzically.  
  
"What's with the 20 questions, doc?"  
  
"Just indulge me for now, John. You're telling me that Face basically gets up whenever he happens to wake up, unless you have plans. Correct?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"When he gets up, does he take a shower right away?"  
  
BA answered that one. "I usually tell him to take one after breakfast."  
  
Maggie nodded. "Usually. So not always. Does he take one if you don't tell him to?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Does he comb his hair? Brush his teeth? Get dressed in clean clothes? Without your telling him to?"  
  
The three men looked at each other. Face didn't do anything unless someone told him to.  
  
"So, do you always remember to?"  
  
Three more looks. Maggie sighed.  
  
"I'm not finding fault, guys. Really. I just needed to know how things were organized, or even if they were. It's not your fault, Murdock," she added hastily. "You were in a routine at the VA - that doesn't mean you were aware of its importance. So, after you get back with the tree, we're going to sit down and set up a schedule for Face. He needs to be getting up at a certain time every day, and getting clean clothes, and a shower, and just taking care of himself in general. But he's not going to do any of those things without a lot of help. He needs to be reminded every day. Until it gets to be a habit for him. The more routine his day becomes, the better able he's going to be able to cope with the things that aren't routine. Because he won't have to think about the every day stuff.  
  
"So, I think we need to get our favorite lieutenant up and moving, so you can go get that tree..."  
  
"Uh, Maggie, " Murdock interrupted with just a hint of mischief. "Uh, BA and I were talking last night. We kinda thought it would be better if we didn't go get the tree. We thought it would be better for Face if he went with you and Hannibal."  
  
Maggie looked at Hannibal. "Hey, this is news to me, Mag."  
  
"See, the thing is, Face is already okay with BA. And he seems to be okay with you, Maggie. It's me and Hannibal he's got problems with. So, going with us, it's kinda like two against one, y'know? Me and Hannibal on one side, BA on the other. But if Face were to go with you two, well, it's a little more evened out. And it would be big step to getting him and Hannibal back on an even keel."  
  
"But what about you, Murdock? You're the one he really needs to connect with if you're going to be working with him."  
  
"Oh, BA and I got that taken care of, too, Colonel. Face and I are gonna take over the living room - just us two - to decorate the tree. You guys are gonna work on some kitchen treats for the decorators. Close at hand but not too close." He grinned triumphantly.  
  
Maggie looked at Hannibal. Hannibal looked at Murdock, then BA.  
  
With an exasperated sigh, Hannibal gave in. "Let's get Sleeping Beauty up and moving then..."


	32. Chapter 32

The day had started out badly, and Face wasn't exactly sure why. First, BA had knocked on his door, practically ordering him out of bed. He didn't understand why BA would use that tone of voice. He hadn't even gotten out of his bedroom when BA started listing the things he needed to do. That's when he started having a problem. He remembered the shower. That was easy. First thing BA had told him, first thing on the list. But once he came out, it was a blank. He used to run such elaborate scams and now he couldn't even remember a simple list. He pulled on the first clothes he saw and made his way downstairs.  
  
BA took one look at Face and the pride he'd felt at starting to take care of Face's "chores" deflated. Face had taken a shower, but he had on the same shirt as yesterday, possibly the same jeans, and hadn't bothered to comb his hair. BA had finally had it with being Face's 'chosen one'. This was the straw that broke the camel's back.  
  
"Face! I tol' you to put on clean clothes and comb your hair. Where's your head at, man?"  
  
Shocked silence. Even BA seemed taken aback by the force he'd put behind his words. Face had gone white. He knew he'd screwed up. He'd screwed it up with BA. He wouldn't have used that tone otherwise. The one person who had his back. And he'd screwed it up. Damn it, Peck, can't you do anything but fuck up?  
  
BA had to fix this fast. He took a step toward Face. "Hey, Face, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to snap at you."  
  
Face stood stock still. No, I screwed up. I screwed up. My fault.  
  
BA looked stricken. He turned to Hannibal and Murdock.  
  
Murdock moved closer to Face.  
  
"C'mon, Face, you know how the big guy is. He always sounds madder than he is. He's not really sore at you. He knows you just forgot." The voice of experience talking there, he thought.  
  
Face looked at Murdock. He did forget. But all he had to do was remember two little things. People don't just forget two little things like that. He'd screwed up and now BA was mad...or disappointed. And maybe that was worse. Maybe he realized he'd made a mistake, sticking by Face. Face couldn't even handle getting dressed or combing his hair. A waste of time. A waste, period.  
  
"Face, tell you what. Why don't you go on back upstairs, get your clothes, comb your hair, and then when you come down, we'll just start fresh, okay? Like nothing happened. Can you do that, Muchacho? Clean clothes comb," he added helpfully.  
  
They watched as Face slowly backed up to the door, then turned and quietly went upstairs. BA slammed his fist into his palm.  
  
"Don't worry about it, BA." Hannibal put his hand on the big shoulder. "We're on a pretty steep learning curve here, guy. We're all gonna screw up now and then. We'll make up for it."  
  
Face was back down in clean clothes, hair combed. Hands deep in his pockets, he nearly double-timed it past them to the dining room. It was going to be another long day.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie heard the entire exchange. This was not going the way she thought it would. She forgot she was not dealing with, well, "sensitive" guys. These were dear friends, but... silk purses and sows ears drifted to mind.  
  
She was rethinking the whole Christmas tree scenario. Maybe today wasn't the best day for that. Or maybe BA should go instead of her. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed that this little blowup might be for the best. It would more or less force Face to look elsewhere for support, at least temporarily. And then he'd be thrust into Hannibal's company. She doubted there would be a complete switch over to Hannibal, but at least it might open the doors a little to 'spreading the wealth' as it were.  
  
She smiled sympathetically when Face came bursting into the dining room. He just looked embarrassed. Memory was one of the casualties of depression, right along with concentration and reasoning. It would get better. He would get better. It would just take time.  
  
Conversation around the table was forced. Murdock was trying to lighten the mood; Hannibal trying to ignore it. BA kept looking at Face, hoping he would look back so BA could smile or wink or something to let him know he wasn't really mad at him. But Face just kept staring at the middle of the table. Maggie had to wonder how he saw what he had on his plate.  
  
Breakfast mercifully over, Maggie looked at Hannibal. 'You or me?' Hannibal grimaced.  
  
"Well, fellas, Maggie thinks its about time we got a tree in here. What say we go take a look, see what we can find?"  
  
"Hey, that sounds great, Maggie." Murdock grinned at Hannibal. "But, uh, BA and I were gonna clean up the van this morning. It's been a while. But we can get the living room cleared out so there's room for it when you guys get back."  
  
"Great. Well, John, Face, let's get going. We're gonna bag a tree."  
  
Face looked startled. Going? Tree? Bag? He hadn't heard a word of the conversation.


	33. Chapter 33

The drive through Bad Rock was short and uncomfortable. Face huddled in the back seat, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes looking out the window. Hannibal could swear he never blinked. He wondered if this was such a good idea. Face was already shell-shocked from BA's outburst. Just getting him ready to go was frustrating. They had to tell him three times to get his coat on before it seemed to register with him.  
  
He looked over at Maggie. He could see she was also nervous about this. They didn't know if Face would even get out of the car. And what if there were a lot of people around? With Face so uncomfortable around them, what would he do if there were a crowd?  
  
The tree lot was at one end of the strip mall. There was still a pretty good selection of trees and not that many people around. Hannibal made himself think positively. This would be okay. They could do this.  
  
Maggie was out of the car and headed into the lot before Hannibal even turned off the engine. She looked back at him, raised an eyebrow, and continued on. Hannibal opened the back door, where Face sat unmoving.  
  
"C'mon, kid, let's go find a tree."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Face, c'mon. Maggie wants a tree and she wants us to help her find one. Ok?"  
  
Face blinked, slowly pushed himself out of the car. Hands immediately into his pockets. He looked around, apprehensively. He couldn't see Maggie. Where was she?  
  
"Maggie's gone ahead. We'll catch up with her, okay?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
It took some time to locate Maggie. She was wandering about the lot, hoping to give Hannibal and Face some time by themselves. But Face had other ideas. He watched around him like a hawk until he finally spotted her. He made a beeline for her, forcing Hannibal to hurry his steps just to keep up. As they came up to her, he shook his head. So far it was not working.  
  
For nearly an hour they walked among the cut trees, Maggie and Hannibal discussing the various good and bad points of the trees they looked at. They kept asking Face his opinion, but he just shrugged, if he responded at all. He really didn't know why they insisted he come along; he wouldn't know a 'good' tree if it bit him in the ass. He just wanted to go back to the house, sit in his chair, and be left alone.  
  
No one paid much attention when the semi pulled up to the lot, loaded with more trees. The driver, a big burly man who would've put BA to shame if he had muscle instead of flab, clambered down from the cab and strolled into the lot. He was looking for the owner. He'd been on the road for hours and wanted to get this load off and go get some sleep. He saw Face standing there and lumbered over.  
  
"Hey, you know where the owner is, fella?"  
  
Face stood there, staring off into space.  
  
"Hey, you, I'm talkin' to you guy. You know the owner of this place?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Whassa matter with you, buster? You got a problem talkin' to me? Huh?" He jabbed Face. "Huh, guy, you got a problem?"  
  
Face jerked around, startled. Who was this guy? Where'd he come from? He felt his hands clench in the pockets.  
  
"Cat gotcher tongue, dummy? Huh? What's your problem?" Another jab.  
  
Face felt hot. Very hot. The man's voice was echoing in his head, sounding far away and yet loud in his ears. His hands were coming out of the pockets. Go away. Go away.  
  
Hannibal and Maggie were haggling with one of the salesman when the fat man's voice carried over to them. Too late, Hannibal realized that trouble was coming, and coming fast. Face had gone rigid and his whole body seemed to be vibrating. His hands were out, down at his sides. Clenching, releasing, clenching again.  
  
Face put one foot a half-step back, balancing himself. The driver, no stranger to brawls, saw it immediately. He smiled. A crowd had started gathering, keeping their distance, knowing something entertaining was beginning. Their presence upped the stress levels Face was feeling. His back door was closing up. Fight or flight was becoming less and less of a choice.  
  
Hannibal moved quickly toward them, but not quickly enough. He saw the fat man take the first swing, trying to hide it behind a "I give up" gesture. There was a blur of motion as Face easily ducked the fist, and returned with his own. But Face was not going for a knockout punch. He was going for the kill. Only the man's own instincts, and Face's slowed reflexes, kept the man from having his larynx crushed.  
  
The driver had been propelled to one side by the blow. Enraged, the driver lunged, grabbing Face around the waist in a bear hug. Before he could lift him up, Face wrapped his feet behind the man's knees and plunged his upper body backward, ending up on top of the man as he lay flat on his back, struggling to breathe. Face rolled off, and prepared for the finishing blow. He would have killed the man then and there had not Hannibal grabbed his arm and spun him around.  
  
"FACE!" Hannibal practically screamed at him, holding his wrists.  
  
Hannibal was not prepared for the exultation he saw in Face's eyes. He was still holding Face's wrists up, trying to keep him off balance. He saw the other man's eyes flicker, catching sight of the held hands. A split second of confusion in those eyes, followed by something Hannibal could only describe as horror. Startled, Hannibal loosened his hold on Face, who wrenched free and took off running.  
  
In a split second, Hannibal was after him. Maggie, having watched in dismay, ran behind them, trying to keep up. They followed Face across the street and down an alley. Hannibal stopped, breathing hard. Face had disappeared. Maggie caught up with him and they moved down the alley, looking in every nook and cranny. They found him sitting in a doorway, staring at nothing, mumbling as he rocked slowly back and forth. He was roughly rubbing his hands, squeezing and kneading them. Maggie knelt beside him.  
  
"Face? Face, honey, do you hear me?"  
  
"What's he saying?" Hannibal was next to her, practically on top of Face.  
  
She leaned closer, trying to hear the whispers. At first she thought he was praying. She couldn't make out the words clearly. She looked up at Hannibal.  
  
"Something about control..."


	34. Chapter 34

Maggie had no idea what was going on. She looked at Hannibal, confused. He watched Face for just a moment. Acting on instinct, he whipped off his gloves. It took force to get Face's hands apart, but he did it. When Maggie saw he was trying to put his gloves on Face, she grabbed them and shoved them on while Hannibal held the resisting hands.  
  
"Face, it's okay now, they're gone, Face, they're gone, look..." He held the gloved offenders up where Face could see them.  
  
He felt the gloves go on. He was almost afraid to look, but he had to see, to be sure. Yes, they were gone. He would be okay now. They were gone. Under control. Hidden again. He looked up at Hannibal, trying to focus on the shimmering figure. Hannibal had known how to fix it. How? How had he known?  
  
Because he was Hannibal. Hannibal. Not some monster. Not someone out to hurt him. Someone who could figure out the gloves. Maybe someone he didn't have to fear. Someone who wanted to protect him. Save him. Maybe even someone who could forgive the killings...? Maybe. Maybe not.  
  
Hannibal looked back into Face's eyes, watched the wildness slowly disappear. And there was something else. When he looked again at Hannibal, there was no fear of him. No anxiety. There were questions. That's all. It still wasn't the old Face. But it was a hell of a lot closer than it had been only minutes before.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie left Hannibal with Face and returned to the tree lot to get the car. The sheriff had arrived and was questioning the driver. Maggie hurried over.  
  
"Hank, let me explain..."  
  
"Hi, Maggie. No need. I know what happened. Several people saw the whole thing. I do need to talk to Peck. Get his side of the story." He looked closely at the doctor. She looked strained and pale. "Look, I know this wasn't his fault. And it kinda sounds like maybe he's got bigger fish to fry - I think you know what I mean, Maggie. So, uh, look, just have him stop by the office sometime and file a report and we'll close this up. I mean, unless he wants to file charges against this jerk."  
  
"No, there won't be any charges, Hank. I'll see that the report gets taken care of. Thank you."  
  
Hank nodded and turned back to the driver. The paramedics were helping him into the ambulance. Hank figured he'd be out the next day and then the troublemaker would be out of his town.  
  
A few minutes later, Hannibal was helping Face into the back seat of Maggie's car. Face leaned heavily against him; Hannibal wasn't sure Face even knew he was moving. On the ride home, Hannibal kept his arm around Face's shoulders, and he never squirmed or pulled away. He just sat, eyes straight ahead. Hannibal could only wonder at what was going on inside that mind. He kept seeing Face after he had pulled him off that guy. That look in his eye. He'd been on the Jazz. He had been ready to kill a man with his bare hands and had been thrilled in the action.  
  
Hannibal thought he understood the thing with the gloves. Now. And he realized that Face, without the gloves, had been hiding his hands in his pockets, not as an affectation of indifference to them, but in trying to protect himself - and them - from the hands he apparently blamed for what he had done. If he kept those hands covered, he could control the darkness. That's what he'd been trying to do in the alley. Gain back the control over the murderer who lurked so close to the surface. The murderer Stockwell had created. The murderer who no longer felt any restraints and had to be kept at bay by any way Face could think of. Even if it meant closing his whole being off from everyone else.  
  
Depression? Yeah. But much much more...


	35. Chapter 35

Murdock heard the car pull into the driveway. They had just finished moving furniture around the living room and cleaning it up, all ready for the tree. He rushed to the front door, expecting to see the new arrival proudly tied to the top of the car.  
  
Instead he watched as Maggie got out of the driver's seat, and rushed around to the back. Hannibal was climbing out, reaching back in. Face got out, Hannibal holding his arm. He stumbled a bit as he stepped away from the car and Hannibal and Maggie both took an arm. Face looked totally unfocused, like he had no idea he even existed, let alone where he was.  
  
Murdock sighed. Now what?  
  
He felt, rather than saw, BA rush past him. In a moment, BA's strong arm was taking the place of Hannibal's and Maggie's, wrapping around Face's shoulders, half walking, half carrying him into the house. Very soon Face was ensconced in his chair by the window, looking out at nothing once more.  
  
Hannibal and Maggie were almost to the front door when BA was back. He grabbed Hannibal by the shoulders and had him up against the wall of the house.  
  
"What happened? Why's he like that? What did you do?"  
  
Maggie pulled at BA's arm. "BA, it wasn't his fault. Let him go. Let me explain." She knew BA was holding her to blame as well and was selfishly thankful that John had taken the brunt of his anger.  
  
The big man let go of Hannibal, who was, miraculously, holding on to his own anger.  
  
"There was an altercation in town..." Maggie explained what had happened. Every detail. It shook Maggie to recount the tale. She saw that Murdock and BA were just as shocked.  
  
BA looked contritely at Hannibal. "I'm sorry, Hannibal. Real sorry."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. "It's okay, BA. I know what it must have looked like. Let's go in, get some coffee. We need to talk."  
  
Hannibal took a quick look in the living room, seeing that Face was okay. Well, relatively speaking. Then he followed the rest into the kitchen. He looked at Maggie, apologetically.  
  
"Maggie, I hate to do this to you, but we need to talk privately. You and I will talk later. I'm sorry."  
  
Maggie realized that those "things" she wasn't supposed to know about would be discussed. Much as she would have liked to have the whole picture of what she was dealing with, she knew it was for her own protection that she stay in the dark about them. She smiled at Hannibal, and went in to sit with Face. Hannibal then explained to the team his theories on the fight and the gloves.  
  
Murdock thought for a few minutes after Hannibal had finished. He had been afraid of something like this when he had first heard about the gloves, all those months ago. He knew then that a split was coming, that Face was confronting a monumental task living with what he had done. Knowing him as well as he did, Murdock knew he would not be able to cope. He was actually thankful Face had found this solution. The other he could not have dealt with.  
  
"I think we should bring Maggie back in on the rest of this. I want her input on what we do next, because it's time to start looking at meds. Get him started now, and that will still give us a little time to get moved into the new place, get our routine established, and otherwise get ready."  
  
Reporting that Face had not stirred, Maggie came back. At least it looked like things would be relatively calm for a bit longer. She readily agreed that medications were a good beginning, and she would start researching them this afternoon.  
  
Murdock took over again.  
  
"Okay, that's settled. Now, I think someone needs to go into town and get that tree. Because this afternoon we're going to go ahead as if nothing happened. I don't want Face spending too much time off in inner space. He's been doing way too much of that already. If we aren't careful, he's going to go there one day and not come back."  
  
BA volunteered to take the van in and pick up the tree. Maggie and Hannibal would bring the decorations down from storage before she started her 'homework'. Murdock was going to start working with Face in earnest. He wanted him at least semi-functional when this afternoon's project started.  
  
*****  
  
Face had been sitting in his chair, quietly musing, if one could call it that. He knew when Hannibal had stuck his head in to check on him. He knew that Maggie had sat with him for quite some time before Hannibal had come to get her. He could hear their low voices in the kitchen. He was sometimes aware of much more than they thought he was. Other times, he knew, were different. He liked those times much better. He wasn't sure where his mind hid during those interludes. He wasn't even sure if it was pleasant for him or not. All he knew is that he didn't remember them. That suited him just fine. He wanted more of those times.  
  
He heard someone leave the house. BA. He watched him from the window, saw him look up at the window where Face sat, followed the van as it pulled out of the driveway and moved down the road toward town. He wondered, for a moment, if BA would come back. Probably. He'd promised to keep Face safe. That was before this morning, of course. Before Face had forgotten to comb his hair. Now Face wasn't sure if he would keep his promise or not. Not that it mattered any more.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannibal and Maggie going upstairs. A few minutes later he could hear movement in the storage area above him. He wasn't curious. He just noted the fact that that's where they were. He didn't worry about Hannibal any more. He didn't remember exactly why.  
  
Murdock was saying his name, rather insistently. He brought his mind back to him. Not happily. He wondered how long he'd been gone this time. He considered going back. But Murdock was still calling him. It was always hard, when people were trying to talk to him. He couldn't concentrate very well with the distraction and sometimes it took a lot of concentration to go away. He wondered why that was. It didn't really make sense, having to work at it. He would've thought one could just sort of daydream, and let it happen. But it didn't work that way. Sometimes it just happened. Other times he really had to...  
  
"Face! C'mon, muchacho, look at me, can you do that? Face?"  
  
He looked at Murdock's worried face. He realized that Hannibal and Maggie were in the room, too. How long had they been there? They all looked so worried. They shouldn't worry about him. He was fine. He was getting better all the time...  
  
*****  
  
BA arrived with the tree. He hauled it in and found Hannibal standing outside the living room doorway, watching as Murdock tried to get Face to answer him. He hadn't 'gone away' again, thank God, but he was ignoring Murdock's every attempt.  
  
"What's goin' on now, Hannibal?" BA knew immediately something more had gone wrong.  
  
Hannibal explained. It was clear that he was shaken by it.  
  
"What really worries me now is that Face continues to ignore Murdock. And Murdock's the one that has to bring him out of this. None of us know enough about it to be worth a damn."  
  
"Face knows that Murdock's gonna try and make him talk about what happened. Make him think about it. And he don't want to so bad he's afraid to let Murdock in."  
  
Hannibal looked at BA.  
  
"Heck, Hannibal, that's just common sense." He picked up the tree once more and hauled it into the living room, leaving a bemused colonel in his wake.  
  
Murdock nearly leaped with relief when he saw BA with the tree.  
  
"Look, Face, BA's back and he brought the tree! Now we're gonna have some fun, buddy. We're gonna make this the most beautiful tree ever. You and me, okay?"  
  
Face was watching BA set up the tree. Something about a tree...they had gone to get one this morning. So why did BA have to go and get another one? It puzzled him. He absently rubbed his ear, trying to figure it out. He felt the glove's roughness. Gloves? He didn't have any gloves any more. Somewhere along the line he'd lost them. So where did these come from? He looked once more at the tree. Hannibal. They were Hannibal's gloves. That's why he wasn't afraid of Hannibal any more - Hannibal had known about the gloves. He'd fixed it.  
  
Fixed it. But why? Why did he have to fix it? Something happened this morning. A man. A man had attacked him. And he had...had fought back...had tried to...he'd lost control of it again. He'd tried to kill him. And something else...  
  
He'd been enjoying it.


	36. Chapter 36

Murdock saw that at least Face was starting to notice what was going on in the room. He was watching BA set up the tree. Murdock turned, checking out the tree and wondering how long it would take to decorate it. Possibly all afternoon if he had to coax Face on every action. He turned back to his friend; Face had turned deadly pale.  
  
"Face, what's the matter? What's going on?"  
  
BA came hurrying over. "Whassa matter?"  
  
"I don't know. He was watching you and he just got all white, all of a sudden."  
  
BA looked at Face, who was slowly getting his color back. He looked at Murdock. "He was looking at the tree?"  
  
"Yeah, he was watching you real close, and then he got all pale...It's okay, BA. I got it. I'll take care of it."  
  
BA looked at him, puzzled, but went back to the tree.  
  
Looking at the tree, the tree they were supposed to have gotten this morning. Maybe Face had remembered something. Something about the fight. If he had, Murdock needed to get him to talk about it. At least, acknowledge it.  
  
"Hey, Face. It's okay now. That's all over with. You didn't do anything you shouldn't have, okay?"  
  
Face looked at him. His eyes were as clear as Murdock had seen since they'd found him. And they were filled with a mixture of anxiety and fear.  
  
"You remember what happened this morning, huh?"  
  
Still holding his gaze, Face nodded.  
  
"Pretty scary, huh? Losing control like that."  
  
Face swallowed. He didn't want to do this, but... "Yeah."  
  
"But Hannibal helped you get that back, didn't he? He got the gloves for you."  
  
"Yeah. He...he fixed it."  
  
Murdock wanted to do a somersault. Face was talking to him! Okay, stay cool, now, don't spook him.  
  
"Yeah, Hannibal's good at that, isn't he?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You wanted to hurt that guy, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Really hurt him?"  
  
Hesitation. "Yeah."  
  
Careful, Murdock. "Kill him, maybe."  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Face? You wanted to kill him, didn't you?"  
  
Face's right hand twitched. Just a little.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
BA had stopped messing with the tree. He stood still, listening to the soft voices by the window.  
  
"Why would you want to do that, Face?"  
  
Another twitch.  
  
"Face?"  
  
"Go away." Face was closing down, fast. He looked out the window.  
  
"Just tell me, Face. Tell me why. That's all."  
  
Twitch.  
  
"Go away."  
  
"Face, talk to me. We need to talk about it."  
  
Twitch.  
  
"Face."  
  
Murdock up against the wall, Face's hand on his throat, tight.  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
Murdock had never heard that voice before. It was feral. It matched the look on the owner's face.  
  
Before BA could reach them, Face shoved Murdock to the floor and stalked off. As BA helped the pilot up, they heard the front door slam. Hannibal came running in.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"Face - out the front - get him - hurry!"  
  
Hannibal was out the door. There was no sign of Face. Both vehicles were there. Where the hell did he go?  
  
Hannibal made a quick circuit of the house and yard. Nothing. How the hell did he disappear so quickly? There was absolutely no sign of him.  
  
He reached the front door as Maggie, BA and Murdock came hurrying out. He shook his head.  
  
"What the hell happened, Captain?"  
  
Murdock sighed, still holding his neck. "I guess I pushed too far, Hannibal. He was starting to talk, answer questions about that guy this morning. But when I tried to find out why he wanted to kill him, he didn't want to answer. The next thing I knew, he had me up against the wall. Then he took off." Murdock sagged. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Not your fault, Murdock. Nobody could've expected that."  
  
"So now what?"  
  
"Spread out. But be careful. No telling who we're gonna find. Maggie, I want you to stay here, in case he comes back on his own. But for God's sake be careful."  
  
Hannibal found him. Kneeling on the ground, the gloves a few feet from him, his right hand spread out on a rock. In his left hand, another rock, the size of a grapefruit. Hannibal froze in horror as Face raised his left hand, and brought the rock crashing down.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal reached him before he could bring the rock down a second time. Face had not made a sound when the rock crushed his hand. When Hannibal grabbed his wrist, he dropped the rock and sagged.  
  
"Face, my God, what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."  
  
Hannibal pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gingerly maneuvered the smashed hand so he could wrap it loosely, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He looked wildly around for the others.  
  
"BA! Murdock! Over here! Hurry!"  
  
Face was beginning to shiver.  
  
"Hang on, Face. We'll get you home, just hang on."  
  
BA arrived first. It took him a moment to take in what was going on. He reached down and maneuvered Face to a stand, carefully so Hannibal could hold his hand still. Murdock got there just as they started back to the house.  
  
"Oh God, Face, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
  
"Never mind that now, Murdock. Go let Maggie know we're coming."  
  
They were in the hospital waiting room less than an hour later. Maggie had taken one look at Face's hand and herded them to the emergency room. There had been too much damage for her to fix in her small surgery. It was small comfort to the men that Maggie was observing in the operating room.  
  
"What the hell was he trying to do, Hannibal?" BA just kept shaking his head in disbelief. He had reached the point where he didn't know if he could keep going like this. It was one thing after another, and he felt they were fast losing control.  
  
"He felt guilty about attacking Murdock. Losing control yet again. Guilt, desperation - he wanted to destroy that violence in him. I guess he thought this was the way to do it."  
  
"It's my fault. I pushed too hard. I should have let it go..." Murdock was beside himself with guilt.  
  
"It's not your fault, Murdock, so knock it off. We all let our guard down. We should have realized things were still volatile. That fight was too much for him to handle."  
  
The men lapsed into silence. Hannibal would agree with BA. Things were out of control. They were lost at sea. And Face was paying for it. And yet what other choice did they have? Only one. Hannibal had thought about it every time there was a new problem. It was distasteful to him and he knew the others would never go along with it. But maybe it would be a necessary alternative, at least for the short term. Until they could regroup. A private hospital. Not a treatment facility, where they'd ask a lot of questions the team couldn't answer. Just a place where Face would be safe. A human warehouse, damn it. He knew they were around. Places where families put loved ones they couldn't deal with any more. Where they were 'medicated' and maintained until whatever situation landed them there was settled. Or the families decided to allow them back. Very discreet, very private. Very cold.  
  
No, the guys would never go along with it.  
  
They lost track of time. It was three sets of defeated eyes that greeted Maggie as she finally joined them in the waiting room, still in her scrubs.  
  
She sat down, exhausted. She had not bargained for this.  
  
"He came through surgery fine. The fingers were pretty bad. There's nerve damage. He'll need therapy, but we don't know how much use he's going to have left in it. We'll just have to wait and see what happens after it's healed up."  
  
It was not what they wanted to hear.  
  
"I've spoken with the doctor in charge of his case. We're friends so he'll be discreet. He's going to start him on a combination of antidepressants and anti-psychotics tomorrow, after the anesthesia has worn off completely. He'll be here for at least 5-6 days. Then..." she shrugged.  
  
"I'm sorry about all of this, Maggie. I didn't think it would be this big a mess. I hate putting you in the middle of it all."  
  
"Oh, John, don't. I want to help however I can, you should know that. This isn't your fault any more than it is his. We've got a few days now to get things straightened out. I'm going to talk to some people who know more about this kind of thing than I do. It would help if I knew more about how he got this way, Hannibal. I know you don't want me to, but after all, I was dealing with you as fugitives before the pardons. My legal status surely can't get more tenuous than that."  
  
"I don't really think you want to know, Maggie. It's not pretty."  
  
"Hannibal, nothing you tell me would change my view of Face. I already figured it must be pretty bad for it to end like this. Now I need to know everything."


	37. Chapter 37

The first thing Lori did every morning was start sorting through the selected law enforcement reports that had been entered into their system the night before. It was a boring job and one that Lori would prefer to let her assistant handle. But the boss was adamant about not letting an "underling" check the reports. Same with the emergency room entries. Lori had very specific parameters to be checking for. She had been doing this every day for the last week and a half. Ever since coming on board with the new boss. And every day for the last week there had been absolutely nothing to report. Starting up the computer, Lori had no expectations of there being any change today.  
  
She was wrong, of course.  
  
There. There was one of the things she had to look for. It had showed up a couple times before, but no other information matched what she was looking for. She pulled the full report to check it.  
  
Well, two definite hits from her list. Maybe a third from the emergency room entries, although she couldn't figure out the connection between them. Lori hurried into her boss' office. Carla would want to see this...  
  
*****  
  
The next morning Maggie was a whirling dervish. In between patients streaming into her office, she was on the phone, calling on colleagues for any and all advice they could give her. She grabbed a quick lunch, leaving the guys to fend for themselves, and continued her frenetic activities until well into the afternoon. By the time she hung up the phone for the last time, everything was in place. John was not the only one who could come up with a plan.  
  
Hannibal had been wandering aimlessly around the house most of the day. His mind was working at top speed but he had nothing to show for it. Every possible avenue he could think of for dealing with Face had been explored and abandoned.  
  
He found himself building what he considered an unreasonable resentment toward the man. He thought of all that the team had gone through over the last several months. And he thought of Stockwell. The last look on his face. And while he told himself over and over that this was not Face's fault, a little nasty voice kept saying, "He could've come to you first." He knew why Face hadn't. Face knew that Hannibal could not have done anything to change things. Not in the long run. One look at the woman in the office told him that. Face had recognized that the team members weren't the only people Stockwell could threaten. And yet that voice stayed in his head.  
  
BA did what BA always did when he was stressed. He tore apart the van's engine. Every little piece carefully cleaned, oiled, put aside until he put it all back together again. Though his movements were careful and meticulous, inside he was seething. He hadn't seen the attack on Murdock coming. And he hadn't been able to stop Face from running away. And he hadn't been able to stop Face from smashing his hand to pieces. He hadn't protected him. He kept thinking about that last night at Stockwell's. And what Face had been going through. What they'd all been going through. What was to come. And he wondered if he really should have pushed Face out of the way that night. Disgusted with himself, he immediately dismissed that thought.  
  
Murdock was not at the house. He had started out that morning intending to just take a walk, clear the cobwebs from his head. He kept walking and walking, thinking. Random thoughts. About the last few months. What they could have done. What they should have done. What they were going to do now. About the VA. Wondering occasionally if maybe he shouldn't go see Dr. Richter. Not for advice about Face. To get grounded again. He needed grounding.  
  
It took almost two hours of steady walking before he found himself in front of the hospital. He hadn't intended to go here. As long as that's where he ended up, he might as well go in, see how Face was doing. So he ambled into Face's room, and sat in the chair by the bed, and watched his friend sleep, mangled hand held in place, pointed heavenward.  
  
*****  
  
"Okay, fellas, listen up. New game plan, effective the day Face gets released." She had gathered them all at the dining room table. The forlorn Christmas tree made the living room too morose. That would also change.  
  
"The first thing we have to address is what happened yesterday. Murdock, BA - neither one of you is to blame for that. I have that on the authority of several very experienced doctors. It was the same sort of thing that happens to a lot of doctors their first time out. The only problem was that you, well, none of us, were expecting that burst of energy from him. Also, there were probably other signs of his agitation that were missed. Not because of laxness but because of inexperience. You should continue doing what you did, but be aware of not only verbal but nonverbal hints. A shifting in position, tapping his foot, sighing. In other words, body language. That's what got missed this time. I don't know what it might have been, but it was there. Now you know to watch for that 'something'. Okay?"  
  
The two men looked at each other, not totally convinced, but willing to concede to Maggie's experts.  
  
"Okay. Now, the day after Christmas, you'll be moving into the farmhouse. You'll also be getting a new team member. I've hired, on your behalf and on your payroll," she winked at Hannibal," a Mrs. Bette Lotz. She is widowed, middle-aged, and very competent. She will be taking care of Face, in so far as making sure he gets up in the morning, gets dressed, cleaned up, etc. She'll make meals for all of you and do light housekeeping. She is not there to take of the team, which I don't see as being a problem. She is going to be there to take of the little, but important, details. So the three of you can worry about the big, but important, details."  
  
"What's she like?" Murdock was picturing Dragon Lady with her hair in a bun.  
  
"She's a widow, as I said. She lost her husband about 20 years ago, and raised two boys on her own. When they got into high school, she went back into health care, and the last two years was working in mental health care. She's firm, but not autocratic. She has a lot of patience, a good sense of humor, and loves mothering. Given an honest chance, I think she's going to be just what Face needs right now. She'll be stopping by later this evening so you can all meet her. I don't see any problems," she looked sternly at each of them, "but the final decision is, of course, up to you."  
  
Hannibal raised his eyebrows at her. "She sounds fine to me, Maggie. I don't see any problems either."  
  
"Good. Now, as I said, Murdock will continue working with Face. Again after talking to some of my experts, I think it would be a good idea, at least at first, for BA to be with Face and Murdock as they talk. I think both of them will feel more secure if he's there. Otherwise, he'll be in charge of making sure Face gets out and gets some exercise and doesn't just sit around all the time. That doesn't mean an obstacle course. Just get him out for a walk every day, or a bike ride. Okay?"  
  
"Sure, Maggie." "Got it, doc."  
  
Hannibal looked at her expectantly, a bit of the old twinkle showing in his eyes. "Well, Maggie, where do I fit into your grand scheme of things?"  
  
"You will do what you do best, Hannibal. Keep these guys going. Keep the team afloat. Murdock's going to have days when he won't think any progress is being made, that's he's messed something up, that he doesn't know what he's doing. You make sure you see those days and get him up again. You keep BA on track. I don't know if you've noticed, but the strain of having Face relying on him so exclusively is starting to show, isn't it, BA?"  
  
The big man looked down, embarrassed. He remembered his thoughts of earlier that day.  
  
"So, now that Face trusts you again, you need to share some of that responsibility. You take Face out for a walk or sit in on a session with Murdock now and then. Give BA some breathing room.  
  
"And otherwise, you make sure things in general run smoothly. Work with Bette. Work with me. And make sure everyone, including Face, including you, have a little fun now and then.  
  
"We took a big blow yesterday. And I can't tell you it's going to be any better at first. But we need to keep our eye on the goal. Face is going to come back from this. You all are. It's going to take time, but you will all be back, whole, again.  
  
"Last, but not least, let's get that damn tree decorated."


	38. Chapter 38

Christmas Eve day. He was sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for someone to come and pick him up. His arm was in a sling, holding his hand up by his collarbone. The doctor kept telling him he needed to keep it up like that, to keep down the swelling. Swelling was bad. It could keep the hand from healing properly. As if it mattered to him. Face had already accomplished what he needed to. That hand would never again be raised against another human being. It would never again pull a trigger. It would never again kill. Face was satisfied. The hell with healing.  
  
He wondered who would pick him up. He wondered where they would take him. Idle curiosity. He liked to know those things. He didn't know if they would take him back to Maggie's or not. It might not be considered 'safe' now, for Face, for them. He smirked. Safe. What a word. As if anything in this world was safe. You could walk across the street and get run over by a truck. A big truck. So there'd be nothing left. Just a blood splat on the road. Just for crossing the street. Things like that happened all the time. Just crossing the street. Splat. Hell, just standing on the street. That could get your head blown off. Just ask him. Who knew when it could happen? Safe? Yeah.  
  
They'd given Face some more pain killers a short time ago. Asking very solicitously if it hurt. What the fuck do you think, doctor? But that was okay, too. Pain had an energizing effect. He'd noticed it yesterday, too. As the pain killers wore off, his energy rose, his thinking cleared. But after the next dose, he'd starting fogging up again. He felt clearer today than he had for, shit, he couldn't even remember. The last few weeks, really. He'd been working in a haze for a long time. It had been worse at Maggie's. Face had let himself drift while he was there. Which was okay. Face didn't want to talk about what had happened and knew the rest of them thought he should. That it would be 'healing'. Like that could heal.  
  
He knew the docs were slipping in something else, too. Not just pain killers. There were other pills they made Face take. Very evasive about what they were, too. Never be evasive when you're trying to hide something, bud. Just lie. People will believe a lie. Trying to skirt around shit just builds suspicions. But that's okay. Once out of here, he would quit taking them. He didn't take anything when he didn't know what it was. Oh, the guys would probably be watching but there hadn't a day dawned he couldn't get around any of them.  
  
He had a pretty good idea what those pills were for. He wasn't dumb. More of that 'healing' crap, he figured. He wondered if they would ever understand. No healing. No going back to the way things were. Life just didn't work that way. You made decisions and you paid the price. He knew what the price was. One way or the other Face would have to pay it. Face wanted to pay it. If he couldn't one way, he would another. Just let himself drift away again. He'd been getting close. So close. Then Murdock had to start in. Made Face lose control so he'd had to come out long enough to straighten that mess out. And now...now Face couldn't get back there again. Okay. Now he had a little more choice again. He wouldn't waste it this time.  
  
*****  
  
BA pulled the van up to the front door of the hospital. Hannibal had felt that only one of them should pick up Face, as he might not be up to a crowd, and BA agreed. He especially did not want to have Murdock along. That would have been too much.  
  
As soon as he opened the door to his room, BA knew there was something different about Face. He had expected to find him quiet and withdrawn, as he had been before. But the man sitting in the wheelchair exuded electricity. His eyes were bright and clear; he was tapping his left hand on the arm of the chair, impatiently.  
  
"Hi, BA. Can we go now?" No slurring, his voice was crisp and sure. "They said I gotta use this thing to leave. My stuff's all ready." He indicated a bag laying on the bed. He looked at BA. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Uh, no, no, not at all, Face. You just seem, well, a lot better today."  
  
Face grinned. Grinned. "Yeah, well, about time, huh? So, can we go?"  
  
"Sure, sure, Face."  
  
BA grabbed the bag from the bed and pushed Face out of the room. He was almost relieved when Face needed some help getting out of the wheelchair and into the van. It brought his remarkable recovery closer to the realm of reality.  
  
It was only about a 20 minutes ride back to Maggie's, but Face seemed to find it interminable. He was constantly shifting in his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee, twisting to look out the window. He didn't talk, though. BA almost expected him to start asking, "Are we there yet?" It was that kind of restlessness.  
  
He had to wait for BA to open the door for him. He couldn't reach around easily enough to reach the handle and he showed the first sign of irritation at the delay. He still needed to hang on to BA's arm as they walked to the house, but BA had to move faster than expected to keep up with him. He was beginning to wonder just what kind of drugs they had given the man.  
  
Hannibal, Murdock and Maggie were all in the living room. As Face and BA entered, all three were surprised by the grin on Face and the scowl on BA.  
  
"Hi guys. Got the tree taken care of, I see. Looks good." Face's eyes were rabbiting around the room, not unnoticed by Maggie.  
  
"Face. You're looking a lot better. Feel okay?" Hannibal was looking at his lieutenant with suspicious eyes. This was not at all what they had expected.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, feeling good. Oh, I get a twinge now and then, but nothing really. Hey, you guys had breakfast yet? The food at that hospital, well, you know how that is."  
  
"We ate already, Face, but I can fix you something. Why don't you go ahead and sit down while I get it?" Maggie indicated the chair by the window. For the first time, Face hesitated.  
  
"Oh, no, that's okay, Maggie. I've been stationary so long I'd kinda like to walk around a bit. I'll find something to eat a bit later." He started back toward the front door, trying not to hang on to the wall as he went.  
  
"Face, you don't look all that steady. Maybe you should sit for a bit."  
  
"I'm fine!" The words came out harsh, almost angry. "I'm just going for a short walk. That's all." And he disappeared out the front door.  
  
Murdock hadn't said a word during the entire performance. That was how it seemed to him. A magnificent charade. Face couldn't possibly feel that good.  
  
"What's going on, Hannibal? Maggie?"  
  
Both shook their heads.  
  
"I don't know, Murdock, but I don't like it." Maggie headed for the front door. "You guys wait here. I'll go talk to him."  
  
Hannibal sighed. So much for a quiet holiday.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie caught up with Face a few yards from the house. He was leaning against the tree, looking a little less 'perky' than he had in the house.  
  
"Okay, Face, what's going on? I know you're not feeling that good."  
  
"I'm all right, Maggie. Really."  
  
"I know you're trying awfully hard to make us think that. But nobody's buying it."  
  
Maggie was going to be a problem. He should have foreseen that. He might be able to get around the guys, bullshit them enough to keep them at bay, but not Maggie. He sighed. The burn was starting to fade, and he was starting to feel the medication kicking in full force. Damn. He'd have to start palming the damn things if he was going to accomplish anything.  
  
"Okay, Maggie, so I'm not feeling that great. But I am feeling a lot better than I was, okay? I just gotta get off these pain killers. They slow me down too much."  
  
"Maybe you need that. You seem to be going a little too fast to my eye."  
  
"Maggie..."  
  
"No, now you listen to me, buster. That's a very serious injury you have there and I know it's got to hurt like crazy. You try to get by without those pills and you're going to regret it."  
  
He didn't say anything. Face was really starting to fade. Maggie looked at him and he knew she knew it.  
  
"I'm just tired of them hanging over me, Maggie. I can't breathe. I don't want to talk about it and I don't want to think about it. I just...I just want to move on."  
  
"It's not that simple. You should know that." She paused. She wasn't sure she should do this, but she felt if she didn't get him to talk about it now, he wouldn't at all. "Why did you do it, Face? Why did you do that to your hand?"  
  
For a moment she didn't think he was going to answer her. Then, his words with just the slightest slur to them, he tried to explain, his voice softer than it had been.  
  
"I didn't have much choice, Maggie. I couldn't hurt anyone again. I tried, I mean I really tried, to control them. And I did for a long time. But they got away from me. Murdock - he just kept pushing. I couldn't fight him and them, too. That's when I knew I had to put a stop to it. Once and for all. I had to destroy it before he hurt any one else."  
  
Maggie noticed his wording but didn't mention it. "Did you succeed?"  
  
"I don't know...I'm sorry, Maggie, but I really need to lay down..."  
  
Face finally had to give in the medication. He used Maggie for support on the way back to the house, and BA had to practically carry him upstairs to his room. Once settled on the bed, he closed his eyes and let the pills take him.  
  
Downstairs, everyone looked expectantly at Maggie. She decided she would not discuss their entire conversation just yet. Hannibal wanted a quiet holiday and she would give it to him as much as she could.  
  
"He's okay. Apparently this last couple of days in the hospital made him realize he was getting just a bit claustrophobic with all the attention he'd been getting from us, so he thought he'd try to bluff his way into a little more space. So it's probably a good thing we planned on just relaxing today and tomorrow. It'll give us all some breathing room."  
  
"You're sure he's okay? He was awfully 'cheerful'." Hannibal was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
"The pills were kicking in. They hadn't reached the drowsy stage yet is all. That's why he's sleeping now. He's fine, really. Just keep to your plan and let him have a rest from everything, too. Okay?"  
  
Hannibal wasn't truly convinced yet, but decided he could ignore his foreboding for one night.  
  
"Okay, Maggie. We'll all take a breather."


	39. Chapter 39

Hannibal awakened early, eager to be out of bed for a change. He decided that today he would make up for Thanksgiving and give everyone his famous turkey dinner. The activity would give him something to do, and everyone could use a reminder of how things used to be. A holiday treat and an incentive rolled into one.  
  
Hannibal was checking through Maggie's cupboards when he first felt someone standing in the doorway. He turned his head and saw Face. He sighed to himself - same clothes as yesterday, hair mussed, unshaven. Not today, he thought. Let it go.  
  
"Morning, kid."  
  
Face looked at him warily. "Morning." He looked at the turkey sitting in the sink, and the other supplies crowding the cupboard surfaces.  
  
"Christmas Day, Face. Somewhere we missed Thanksgiving so we're making up for it now." He pointed casually to a bowl with pumpkin pie mix in it. "You used to show off cracking eggs with one hand. Think you still can?"  
  
He popped an egg into Face's left hand, grinning. Face pondered it for a moment, looked up at Hannibal and gave him a half-smile. Deftly he broke the egg and let it plop, shell-free, into the bowl.  
  
"Great. You are my official assistant today." He pulled a chair up to the table and handed Face a recipe card. "What're you waiting for? Get cooking."  
  
Hannibal turned back to his cupboard search. He stood for a moment before a grin appeared on his own face. He knew what Hannibal was trying to do. That was fine. Two could play the "everything's just fine" game. Even one handed. He sat down to make a pie.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie smelled onions and garlic and other spices drifting from the kitchen. As she got closer to the door, she heard voices. Hannibal. And Face?!  
  
"Got it, kid? Okay, no problem. We'll let Murdock handle KP." Chuckling from both men.  
  
"In here, Hannibal?"  
  
"Yep, just dump it all in there."  
  
Maggie peeked carefully around the door. She didn't want to disturb this. Face, with his good hand, was carefully pouring the pumpkin mix into a pie shell. Hannibal watched, ready to lend a hand if needed, otherwise letting Face handle it all.  
  
"Okay, better let me get that in the oven." Hannibal carefully placed the pie in and set the timer.  
  
"What's next?"  
  
"Dressing. If you hold the onion chopper between your knees, you should be able to chop them up for me."  
  
"Ok."  
  
The two were so involved in this project they didn't notice they now had an audience of three. Quietly the trio moved away from the door, grinning at each other. They were perfectly willing to wait for breakfast if it meant some "normal" time for Face and Hannibal. They sat in the living room, watching the tree lights and listening to the voices from the kitchen. It was the best Christmas present they could have asked for. On occasion there was a small crash or clatter, and they cringed a little each time. They would hear Hannibal tell Face," Don't worry about it.", and they followed the same advice.  
  
When the two came out to the living room, Hannibal had his hand on Face's shoulder and they were both grinning from ear to ear. Seeing the others watching them with matching grins, Hannibal chuckled and Face almost seemed embarrassed.  
  
"So, now we'll find out how good a cook Face is," he chortled.  
  
"Or how good a teacher you are," Maggie corrected, with a laugh. "If you two are finished demolishing my kitchen, I'll see if I can manage breakfast. BA, Murdock, you can assist me."  
  
Hannibal and Face replaced the others in the living room. Hannibal noted, with some satisfaction, that Face was staying away from "his" chair by the window.  
  
"Well, Face, how's it feel?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"We just took another step in passing the torch - the tradition part."  
  
"Passing the torch?"  
  
"Yeah. You didn't think leading the team was just running missions, did you? You gotta take care of the morale, too. And part of that is keeping the traditions."  
  
"Wait a minute. You're the leader here." Face was starting to feel an odd misgiving.  
  
"Not forever, Face. As long as I can, sure. A long time yet, I hope. But you gotta be ready to take over and that means all the aspects of leading this group."  
  
Face was now totally at sea. How could Hannibal expect him to look after the team like that? Not Face. No, that wasn't right. Hannibal couldn't really think that he would - could - continue as his second. That he would even be able to stay with the team. No. No. Hannibal wasn't thinking. Or was it just words? To make Face think he was still wanted. A lie so Face would do what they wanted - talk about it, take the pills, pretend everything would go back the way it used to be. But Hannibal kept saying he wouldn't lie to Face. He wouldn't. And Face wanted to believe him. But what if he thought it was the only way to keep Face going? To keep him in line. Hannibal took care of his team. He felt an obligation to do that. So would he lie to take care of his obligation to Face? That was all Face was after all, an obligation. Someone they had to take care of regardless. Face had been thinking so clearly and now his thoughts were all jumbled again. Was it Hannibal's lies or those damn pills? Or was Face just screwed up?  
  
Abruptly, Face stood up and strode from the room. He needed space. He needed to think. Get his head straight. Something wasn't right. He couldn't reconcile what he'd done with what Hannibal was saying. It wasn't right. It couldn't be.  
  
"Face?"  
  
Hannibal called to him as he walked out, but he ignored him. He didn't want to hear Hannibal's voice any more. He had to listen to his own mind. That was the only one he could trust right now. The only one that wouldn't try to manipulate him. He stepped out the door and moved a few feet into the yard. He didn't need to go far, just out of hearing range. He hoped Hannibal wouldn't follow. He didn't want anyone to follow. He needed to be alone. Completely alone. Like he had been for all those months before...  
  
He could feel the drowsiness of the pills coming on him again, draining his energy. He didn't want to sleep, and those pills made him sleep all the time. Sleep meant dreams. Dreams he remembered. He wanted to go away again. No dreams there. No memories. No voices badgering him. Baiting him. Lying to him.  
  
"Face?"  
  
Damn. Hannibal had followed. Go away. Please.  
  
"You okay, Face?"  
  
"Yeah." Go away.  
  
Hannibal stood for a moment, unsure. He was afraid Face might take off again. He didn't know what had happened to make Face bolt as he had. Surely he hadn't said anything that Face hadn't already known before. Unless Face thought things had changed now.  
  
"Face, I know you want some space right now, okay? I just want you to know that I still trust you to take over for me. We're having a bit of a rough time right now, but that's not going to last forever. In the long run, nothing's changed. Ok?"  
  
"Yeah." Go away.  
  
Hannibal sighed and went back in the house. The rest of the team were watching from the kitchen. He shrugged his shoulders. Let it ride. He stayed by the window, watching, just in case. Face stood perfectly still for a few moments before finally sitting under the tree, leaning back against it. Hannibal relaxed a bit. Maybe Face had just gotten overloaded this morning with all the activity. When breakfast was ready, Hannibal went out and gently woke him.  
  
*****  
  
The rest of the day passed without incident. By unspoken agreement, no one made any demands on Face for conversation or activity. He sat in his chair, either dozing or just watching out the window. He didn't appear to have the surge of energy he usually did as the pain killers wore off. Instead he seemed to be slipping back into his "inner space", as Murdock called it.  
  
But Face had not been able to slip away. It would not come for him. Instead his mind was racing with random thoughts and visions. It was all he could do to sit still and not let the others see the chaos he was experiencing. There was no sense to the images, no rhyme or reason. He saw Aadil's head exploding one minute, Hannibal's turkey in the sink the next. Stockwell pointing the pistol. The Christmas tree. The longer the images danced across his mind the more convoluted and disturbing they became. Suddenly he was not blasting a bullet through Aadil - instead BA's skull took the attack. The relief was almost physical when Hannibal announced the turkey was ready.  
  
The dinner itself was fairly normal. It was embarrassing at first for Face to have to have someone else cut up his food, and he was clumsy using his left hand, but once past that it went smoothly. Murdock noticed that Face avoided looking at his left hand as much as possible, and that caused him some concern. He would talk it over with Maggie before they left the next day. Unlike the antidepressants Face was taking, the anti-psychotics should have kicked in already. And if that was the case, Face shouldn't be having any aversions to his hands. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Face wasn't taking them, but he dismissed it. Why wouldn't he take them?  
  
That evening Hannibal reminded Face that they would be leaving in the morning, to which he received no response. Face went to bed early, which everyone assumed was due to the medications. But once alone in his locked room, Face paced quietly, unable to put the renewed images from his head. It was long after the others had gone to bed that an exhausted Face finally succumbed to sleep himself.


	40. Chapter 40

No one was quite sure how Face would react to Bette Lotz. The rest of the team, having met the woman earlier, were favorably impressed. But whether Face would see her as a helper or not remained to be seen. When Murdock had told Face of the "new addition", Face had had one question - why?  
  
"She's just going to help keep the house running smooth, that's all. A little housekeeping, stuff like that. She'll help you out, too, keeping track of things. Just to make things a little more routine for all of us."  
  
Face hadn't bought it. They were military, they knew how to keep things in order. So it wasn't to help the team. Except to keep an eye on Face. Give them more time to work on him. Make him talk. Make him take the pills. Try to 'heal' him.  
  
Time was running out for him.  
  
Mrs. Lotz was already at the house when the team arrived, accompanied by Maggie. She smiled warmly at them and immediately moved toward Face. He straightened, but relaxed slightly when she stopped a couple feet away.  
  
"You must be Templeton. Or would you prefer I call you 'Face'?" He looked at her. "Well, how about I call you Templeton for now. If you feel more comfortable with Face, you let me know, okay?"  
  
The group moved into the house and started looking around. There was a large living room with two couches, dining room, library, and a kitchen that could easily feed an army. An immense sun room was off the dining room, overlooking a meadow, the mountains in the background. Upstairs were five big bedrooms, each connecting to an open balcony. Murdock was surreptitiously removing all the keys to the balcony doors. No sense tempting fate.  
  
"Any preference, Face? Take your pick."  
  
Face just shrugged. He'd already seen Murdock taking the keys. What difference did it make which room he chose? They were all his prison. Complete with keeper.  
  
"Why don't we take the two at the end, Colonel Smith?" Bette was already taking charge.  
  
"Sounds good, Bette. That okay with you, Face?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
For the next few hours they got settled in and explored the house more thoroughly. Murdock, Hannibal and BA were especially mindful of exits they couldn't readily watch, or 'hazards' that needed to be eliminated or monitored. Face found the sun room and immediately sank into a deep cushioned chair facing the meadow. Bette promptly settled into a nearby chair, declaring she had done enough stair climbing and exploring for one day. Face barely looked at her.  
  
'You aren't fooling me.'  
  
The rest of the day brought growing resentment from Face. He maintained a stony silence no matter how much Bette tried to talk to him. When he got too restless and walked outside toward the meadow, she 'wandered' along behind him. She would give him no opportunities. It was maddening. Time. He needed time and it was running out too quickly. She was throwing away his chances.  
  
The final straw came that night. Bette handed him his pills and waited for him to swallow them. He took the pain killers with no problem; he knew that the dosage was getting smaller and smaller. In a few days he would not be taking them at all. He hadn't told anyone the pain was still there. He wanted that energy. The others he palmed, as usual.  
  
"Did you swallow them all, Templeton?"  
  
He glared at her. How dare she question him like a child?  
  
"Did you swallow them, Templeton? You need to take them all, you know."  
  
He hadn't intended to let the cat out of the bag, but she had pushed him too far. He calmly showed her the two pills still in his hand and deftly flicked them into the no-man's land in the corner of the long hallway. Bette was somewhat nonplused. She'd had patients refuse their meds before but never so audaciously.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that, Templeton. You need to take them to make you feel better." Firm but reasonable.  
  
"I need to be left alone." Just as firmly he shut the door in her face.  
  
Bette had no choice but report this to Hannibal. He, in turn, went directly to Murdock.  
  
"This is your bailiwick, Captain. I don't care how you do it but he's taking those pills."  
  
"It's not that easy, Hannibal..." Murdock would have to talk to Bette. She needed to come to him first or Hannibal would be hitting the ceiling every time he turned around.  
  
"Well, what happened at the VA if someone refused their pills? How'd they handle this?"  
  
"They'd try to talk him into it. If that didn't work, they'd have to go to a judge and get a court order to make him take them. If he still refused, they'd restrain him and force feed him the pills. I don't think that would work very well here, Hannibal."  
  
The picture Hannibal had was not pretty. "They don't have shots or something...?"  
  
"Nope. It's not that easy, like I said."  
  
"Okay. Try to talk him into it. If that doesn't work, well,...just talk him into it, Captain."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
Murdock trudged upstairs with more than a little trepidation. Judging from what Bette had said about Face's attitude, and what he had seen himself that day, he felt like Daniel walking into the lion's den.  
  
He knocked at Face's door. No response. Knocked again. Still no answer. He pushed the door open, thankful these doors had no locks. Face was standing in front the glass balcony doors, staring at him defiantly.  
  
"Hey, Face. Sorry to barge in on you."  
  
"Bull."  
  
'Okay, this is already going so well.'  
  
"We, uh, we need to talk, Face. About those pills, you know."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm not taking them."  
  
Murdock moved further into the room. He noticed Face shift slightly. Body language. Didn't really need to watch for it this time. He knew where this was headed. He wished he'd brought BA with him.  
  
"Look, Face, those pills are supposed to help. You know, so you don't have to feel so bad all the time."  
  
"I feel fine."  
  
"Hey, c'mon, remember who you're talking to, muchacho. Been there, done that, y'know? I may not know exactly what you're feeling but I can come pretty close. And it ain't 'fine'."  
  
"Just go away, Murdock. Tell Hannibal and BA you guys don't have to screw around any more. You're off the hook. Send Brunhilde there home and we'll just go our separate ways."  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Just what I said. No more obligation. You guys are off the hook. I resign. Quit. Off the team, 'muchacho'."  
  
"Obligation? Face, we aren't here because of some obligation. God, man, we're trying to help you because you're our friend and teammate. You got here saving our asses, man! You'll never be off the team."  
  
"C'mon, Murdock. The killer, remember? How the hell are you going to help that? That's pushing friendship a bit far and even I'm smart enough to know that!"  
  
"Face, I..."  
  
"Enough, Murdock! Okay? Enough! There's no fixing this! None. I've tried. Remember?" He held up the bandaged hand. "It didn't work. He's still in there, just screaming to get out. Waiting. And no pills or talking or damn near anything else is going to stop him. He'll just keep coming back!"  
  
"So what's your solution, Face?" Murdock's own voice was hard as a rock.  
  
Face hesitated just an instant too long.  
  
"I'll go away. Someplace where he won't matter. Maybe back overseas. Where he can be more productive."  
  
"I can't believe you're saying that, Face. No way you'd do something like that."  
  
"Fuck it, Murdock, I already have! Accept it! I shot three people! Three people! Dead! By my hand!"  
  
"You didn't have a choice!"  
  
"There's always a choice! I could've figured out some other way. I could've taken out Stockwell. I could've taken his 'weapon' out of the picture right off the bat. I didn't have to kill them!"  
  
Murdock had unconsciously been moving closer to Face. Face, in turn, had been tensing into 'combat ready'. Neither was aware that they were, in fact, slowly circling each other.  
  
"Face, geez, c'mon, just relax, man, okay? Just...we don't have to talk about this any more tonight."  
  
Bette, standing on the lower landing, had been listening with increasing concern. She couldn't make out the words but she could easily discern the anger in one voice, the desperation in the other. As the voices increased in volume, Bette decided it was time for help. She hurried downstairs and found Hannibal and BA already moving in from the yard.  
  
Murdock was still trying to reason with Face. No, no, all he wanted to do now was calm things down. He was seriously worried that Face would try to hurt one or both of them. Murdock knew he would be no match for Face in either case. He berated himself again for not bringing BA along for this, as Maggie had instructed.  
  
"C'mon, Face, we don't have to do this any more tonight. We can just relax and sleep on it. Tomorrow we can talk about the pills and maybe find some other way to work this out, okay? Just calm down."  
  
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up and go away! I mean it! Get out!" Anger mixed with...desperation?  
  
"Face, I can't walk out when you're this upset, man. C'mon, let's just ease off a little, okay?"  
  
The next second, Murdock knew he was in big trouble. Face's voice became sardonic, nearly patronizing.  
  
"You want to help your friend, Captain? Leave him alone. Let him go. We'll go overseas all right. You know why? Remember that truck driver, Captain? I was going to kill him, all right. And I was enjoying every last second of that insect's life!"  
  
"Face, you don't mean that. I know you don't. Just relax."  
  
"I don't need to relax, Captain. I'm just exactly the way I need to be. Exactly the way I want to be. Don't like it? Leave. Leave now."  
  
Murdock realized he was way too close to Face. How had that happened? One second he was out of reach, the next...  
  
"Face, I can't..."  
  
Even one-handed, Face took Murdock down with ease. Right hand held up, his left covering Murdock's face. He pushed down on his nose, his mouth, he was smothering...  
  
BA crashed into the room. One glance told him the story. He grabbed Face around the waist in a bear hug, exactly like the unhappy truck driver.  
  
"BA his feet!" Hannibal shouted from the door.  
  
Before Face could maneuver, BA pushed down, forcing Face's upper body toward the floor. Face yelled and fell still as BA's weight carried him down on his injured hand.  
  
The near silence that ensued was as tense as the destruction before had been chaotic. Murdock groaned as Hannibal helped him up. Bette hurried in and checked his pulse and breathing.  
  
"He'll be all right. Just needs to get some air into him."  
  
"What about Face, Colonel?" Murdock was still gasping.  
  
"What about him?" Hannibal started out the door. "I'm going to call Maggie."  
  
BA put Face on the bed, Bette holding the reinjured hand carefully. It was already swelling badly.  
  
"This isn't good, not at all," she told BA.  
  
"Neither's Murdock." BA strode away to the pilot, and helped him out the door. He got him into his own room and disappeared downstairs. Moments later he returned with a padlock which he quickly affixed to Face's door.  
  
"Is that really necessary?" Bette stood in the hallway, disapproval in her voice.  
  
"For now, yeah. Enough is enough." BA glowered at the woman, who returned it anger for anger. BA snapped the lock and stomped downstairs, leaving Bette staring sadly at the locked door.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had recovered without problem. Face was once again in the hospital, doctors trying to repair the new damage, with orders he be kept under heavy sedation. Bette alone had gone with him in the ambulance. Hannibal had announced his plans for Face after the ambulance left. Murdock and Maggie had both argued vehemently against him, but Hannibal overruled them both. He would not endanger the rest of the team for Face. Three days later Face was transferred to a private hospital up the coast, a place where they would ask no questions and report to no one except the person who placed him there - the patient's anxious 'father'.


	41. Chapter 41

The call came nearly two months later. Hannibal had almost forgotten the possibility of a problem from that sector. So it was with not a little anger at his negligence that he made the drive to the hospital with Maggie. Hannibal had not made this drive since the attack on Murdock. He had disappeared that next day, finally returning well after dark with his choice made. He had not gone there again. He was never sure if it was anger, fear or guilt that kept him away. Maggie had gone up twice. The first time she had tried to talk Hannibal into bringing Face home. The second time she hadn't spoken to him for several days.  
  
The ride today was silent. Maggie had made it clear she was going for Face, not for Hannibal. He had never seen her so angry and found himself wondering just how this was going to play out between them. Damn it, how much more screwed up could his life get because of Face?  
  
He was immediately filled with shame. He had to remind himself once again that the real person to blame was Stockwell. That Face was in this situation, that the team was in this situation, because Face had acted to save their lives. He could rationalize all he wanted about protecting the team. It would not change the facts of what he had done to a member of his team.  
  
They hurried through the doors and directly to the administrator's office. There they learned the details of the break in. At some point during the night, someone had been able to bypass the security system and find their way to Face's room. They had then taken him to the hospital's garage and left him there after hot-wiring all three vehicles. Within a few minutes an anonymous call had gone in to security and they had raced to the garage. Face had been rushed to the nearby medical facility, where he was now under observation, with a police guard outside his door. The entire matter was being treated as attempted murder. The police wanted to speak to Hannibal at his earliest convenience concerning an item they had found. Something that had been left on Face's bed by the would-be killers and which the police hoped Hannibal could shed some light on.  
  
A small stone elephant.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal's first call was to BA. He wasn't sure where Murdock was and he wanted BA on his way as quickly as possible. BA was not at the youth center. The girl who answered told Hannibal he had run out for some supplies and then would be stopping at his mother's home.  
  
Mrs. Baracus answered on the third ring. Not wanting to alarm her, he only asked that she have BA call him about a job. Since they had taken on several since Face had been hospitalized, she thought nothing of it. She did, as always, ask about Face.  
  
"He's fine, Mama."  
  
"Fine, my foot. You keep sayin that but how can he be fine if he's still in that hospital after all this time? Can't they do nothin' for him yet?"  
  
Hannibal hated lying to her, but BA had insisted she be told only that Face was in treatment and making progress. Another Murdock.  
  
"They're making progress, really, Mama. It just takes time." It was clear from the woman's response she wasn't satisfied but promised to have BA call as soon as he arrived. Hannibal figured it would actually be after getting an earful from his mother.  
  
Twenty minutes later BA called and Hannibal explained what had happened. BA could be there in less than three days with the van. It would coincide with Face's release from the medical hospital. Now they just needed to find Murdock.  
  
BA hung up and turned to find Mama watching him.  
  
"I wasn't listenin in, Scooter, but you weren't exactly quiet. What happened to that poor man now?"  
  
BA was tired of lying to her. While he didn't tell her the very beginning, he did tell her everything that had happened at Maggie's house and the farm. It all started, he told her, with some things Face had had to do for Stockwell that hadn't worked out. When BA had finished, she shook her head, angry and yet sympathetic at the same time.  
  
"I can understand you and Hannibal needin to keep everyone safe, Scooter, but to stick him away like that and forget about him? That ain't right. You know that ain't right." And she stalked from the room.  
  
BA knew. Had he not been so worn down from the events of that past month and so angry at Murdock's injury, he probably would not have gone along with Hannibal's plans. After all, he had promised to keep Face safe. After they had taken him away to the hospital, BA had rationalized that this was the only way to keep both Face and the rest of the team safe. But how to rationalize never going to see him? He knew why he hadn't. Not just because he'd left almost immediately for Chicago. He'd gone back to LA several times for jobs with the team. But he'd never gone to see Face. It was so much easier not to get caught up in all that again. But he couldn't help thinking about him.  
  
He knew Maggie had gone to see him and she wasn't happy with his condition. He had apparently retreated completely from reality. Maggie had been told that on his 'good days' he would respond when told to do something, but most days communication of any kind was impossible. Even if BA had gone to see him, Face would not really have been there to know it.  
  
He thought Murdock went. In fact, he was pretty sure the pilot was a frequent visitor. But he never said anything about Face or the hospital to the rest of them. He hadn't talked much at all. Murdock had changed a lot. Too much. But so had everything else. BA's thoughts were interrupted by Mama's reappearance. She had two small suitcases with her.  
  
"Let's get goin, Scooter. That baby needs me."  
  
*****  
  
Murdock wasn't always easy to reach. He did freelance flying for a variety of companies all over the world. He recognized that he deliberately made it difficult for Hannibal to find him. Not impossible, just difficult. It was hard for him to be around Hannibal or BA. He couldn't accept what they had done to Face, and he had an even harder time accepting his own role in that betrayal. He remembered Maggie's anger that night, directed not only at Hannibal but at himself. It had been very hard to bear.  
  
It had been a horrific day all around. Hannibal hadn't even wanted to tell him where this 'hospital' was, apparently afraid Murdock would try to break Face out. The pilot had finally threatened to walk out on the team altogether unless he was told. He'd tried to visit Face that very day, but was told visitors were not permitted for at least three days, so the patients could settle in. By then, of course, it was too late. Face had gone away into his inner world, and there was nothing Murdock could do to bring him back.  
  
They had stayed at the farm for a few more days, and then BA had gone back to Chicago. Murdock had moved to LA and reconnected with Dr. Richter. He started flying again, his license ironically restored through Stockwell's earlier machinations. Hannibal had stayed in Bad Rock at the farm. They had, in fact, put the A-Team on 'occasional' status. Jobs would come up requiring that certain 'finesse' and Hannibal would call them in. The more often Murdock visited Face, the harder it was for Hannibal to find him, and the harder it was for Murdock to feel connected to the team.  
  
When Hannibal finally reached him this time, it was the day after the call to BA. Murdock was in Nova Scotia. His first thought was to fly to Langley and take care of Carla. Hannibal reminded him what that kind of thinking had led to.  
  
"We'll deal with Carla, Captain. Rest assured of that. But it's going to be done without bloodshed this time. By anyone. Period."  
  
It was too late for Murdock to start the return flight that day. He'd already logged too many hours. He would come first thing in the morning. He and Hannibal would go see Face while waiting for BA.  
  
*****  
  
Face had been released that morning, shortly before Murdock landed at the small local airport. He'd been returned to the private hospital and by the time Murdock and Hannibal arrived was back in his room. Hannibal, who had yet to see him, was not prepared for the sight.  
  
He was seated in a wheelchair, facing the door. Where Face had always been slim, he was now positively skinny. His facial bones were prominent and Hannibal could actually make out his collar bone under the tee shirt he wore. Hannibal had been told, over the past two months, that Face was being properly cared for, but seemed to be losing weight regardless. They hadn't told him how much.  
  
Face's hands lay limply in his lap. The left seemed disproportionately large, until Hannibal realized he was comparing it to the right hand, which was now withered and twisted-looking. He remembered once again how it had been re-injured and the doctor had been unable to repair the new damage adequately. Apparently physical therapy was not included in the services at the hospital.  
  
It was Face's eyes that riveted Hannibal, however. He had seen those eyes alive and glowing with excitement; he had seen them dull with pain and the horrors of the camp. He had never seen them as lifeless as they appeared now. Murdock and Hannibal might have been invisible, as those eyes stared through them at the door. There was not a hint of Face left in them.  
  
Murdock watched Hannibal's reaction. While not getting used to his friend's condition, he was no longer shocked by it. He pressed his advantage.  
  
"It's time to bring him home, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal said nothing but walked over to Face and knelt in front of him.  
  
"Face? Hey, kid. Face?" Not a ripple of recognition or acknowledgment. Hannibal strode from the room, bearing directly for the administrator's office. Murdock stayed with Face, smiling.  
  
*****  
  
There had been no problem getting Face released to his 'father's' custody. The hospital staff was relieved that their lives would no longer be in potential danger from having a murder target in their midst. The police were a little more problematic but, once assured of where the victim would be, allowed the release.  
  
Maggie spoke with the doctor while Murdock and Hannibal gathered Face's belongings. Some of the items were disturbing to Hannibal, who had yet to accept the full extent of Face's debilitation. He sighed, and found himself once again ashamed he had allowed things to go so far.  
  
An attendant took Face out to the car and literally had to lift him into the back seat. Murdock was already seated in back. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of emotion on his friend's face. He might have imagined it, it was gone so quickly. Imagination or not, he held on to the hope it gave him.  
  
Hannibal had called BA in the van, telling him they were bringing Face back to the farm. Murdock and Maggie both saw the look of relief as he relayed to them that Mama was with BA. Murdock saw it as an omen. This time things would be very, very different.  
  
Maggie was glad Murdock was along. She didn't know if she would have been able to talk Hannibal into taking Face out of that place alone. Having another team member there when Hannibal first saw Face had done the trick. When Hannibal had said BA's mother was also coming, she could have wept with relief herself. She knew the woman had mothered them all, but had given something special to Face. Maybe this time it would end better.  
  
The entire drive back Murdock kept talking to Face. He described the passing scenery, what his last flight had been about, and anything and everything else he could think of. Once again, when he told Face that Mama was coming with BA, he could have sworn that flicker of life flashed.  
  
Once they reached the farm, Hannibal went into action. He'd been planning all the way back. He would move one of the beds down in to the sun room. Even though it was February, it stayed comfortably warm there even at night, and it would be easy to deal with the wheelchair from there. Hannibal had put getting Face out of that chair as the number one priority. Face was going to come back to them this time. In all ways and for good.


	42. Chapter 42

BA and his mother pulled in within an hour of the rest. Maggie had taken Face into the living room and was taking care of him there. Murdock and Hannibal were already taking apart the furniture in the bedroom to be brought down to the sun room. With BA's help they would have Face's new accommodations ready in no time. Mama had gone right in to Maggie and Face. She was stunned by what she saw.  
  
"What have they done to you, baby?" She stared into those blank eyes and held his hands tightly. "You gotta come back, Face. You come back to Mama." She felt the lightest twitch of the his left hand and smiled. "Yeah, you'll come back to me, won't you? We'll take our time, but you'll come back."  
  
Straightening, she turned that don't-give-me-any-trouble look on Maggie.  
  
"These boys ain't gonna give me the full story but you know I gotta know it. I 'spect you know what got this boy here."  
  
"I do, but I don't know if..." She couldn't say no to that look. "Let's get him settled in his room, and you and I will go for a walk."  
  
The rest of the team were in the sun room, finishing up the transfer. It was now a very cheerful bedroom with views on three sides. Both Maggie and Mama approved. Leaving Face in their care, with a stern admonishment not to push things, the two women went for their walk.  
  
The anger Mama had felt about the hospital compared to the anger she felt when Maggie had told her the whole story was as a breeze to a tornado.  
  
"How could they turn their backs on him after all that? He woulda give his life for any one of them. Dear lord in heaven, he did give his life, for all that matters."  
  
"It's not really all their fault, Mama. Many families just can't cope with everything that's involved. They can't see the illness on an x-ray, like a broken bone. They can't accept the illness making the changes they see. They think the person can just decide not to think the way they do, or is just feeling sorry for themselves. And when they fight treatment, the way Face did, it just makes it harder. The person doesn't think there's anything wrong, or they think the medications will change who they are, instead of helping them become themselves again. So all in all, it's not hard to see where families just reach the end of their rope. And especially with the guys, trying to do it all on their own.  
  
"I admit, I was so angry at John there were times I wished he would just go away, and never come back. But he just needed some time out from all the stress. They all did. It cost Face, dearly, but I'm hopeful that this time, things are going to work out. I think they're going to make it. Your being here is going to make the difference. I don't know why, but you're just so...comforting." Maggie felt so overcome for a moment she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  
  
"Well, don't you worry, Maggie. I'm not leavin until all these boys are back where they oughta be. Now, what are these pills he's supposed to be takin? Was he gettin them in that place?"  
  
"No, they didn't give him anything but sedatives." Maggie was bitter in her response. "It really wasn't anything more than a storage place for people. I can write up new prescriptions for him, but I'm not sure how you're going to give them to him. Just feeding him is going to be difficult and time-consuming. I'm considering a temporary feeding tube, quite frankly. He's lost way too much weight."  
  
"Don't you worry about feeding him. I got nothin but time on my hands. And I'll just give him those pills like I did when my Scooter was little. Mash 'em up real good, add a good dose of sugar with a little water - they swallow that 'spoonful of sugar' like it was candy."  
  
*****  
  
He was watching a movie. Or something like a movie. He'd seen it before, many times. The man would be talking. Angry words. Then two more men. More angry words. And then the man was on the ground and there had been pain. A lot of pain. Funny how he could feel that just from a movie. He wasn't sure how that worked. Someone should patent that.  
  
There'd been a lot of short confusing scenes after that. A lot of lights in his eyes. And movement. He was always moving somewhere, some time. He no longer saw any of those other men again. They'd been written out of the movie, he supposed. That was okay. They didn't want to be in it anyway. He would end up in a strange cold room. That's where the movie usually ended. He wasn't sure if the movie was supposed to end like that or if he just went away about then. Odd.  
  
Once in a while there was another movie. There had been more people around. Rough people. They had taken him someplace and there had been a really bad smell. It was hard to breathe. Really hard. He'd gotten dizzy and sick to his stomach. He had tried to go away but the breathing made it too hard to concentrate. Then more people again. Lots of jostling around and something was put over his face. He'd tried to take it off but they wouldn't let him. That was okay though. He could breathe again and found his back door. He'd gone away again, finally. He thought that was the way that movie was supposed to end. He thought both movies really ought to end that way.  
  
He was almost finished. He could tell. Even when he came back now, it was never all the way; it was all fuzzy and the voices were muffled. Except when the movies played, it was easy to block things out and go back. The movies made it harder. Otherwise...  
  
Recently - it was hard to gauge time so really everything was 'recently', he supposed - there'd been more jolts to his peace. He hadn't been in that room any more. Instead he was in a smaller place, and it moved. He could feel it. And then there was that voice. A constant voice, muffled but always there. It seemed familiar somehow. That voice had always made it hard to go away.  
  
"...and Mama's coming..."  
  
What was that? Mama? Mrs. B.? Was that what the voice said? No, it couldn't have been. Mama was in a whole different place, a different world. Not in his movies. Not in his place.  
  
When was it now? There was a different voice again. Someone held his hands. That voice. He hadn't heard that in a long time. Could it really be?  
  
"...You come back to Mama..."  
  
It was true. She was here. She was really here...  
  
*****  
  
Mama found that getting someone to eat when they didn't really know they even existed took a lot of coaxing and a lot more patience. She and Face had an audience for a while. It was almost as if his teammates wanted to assuage the collective guilt felt by dancing attendance on his every activity. The anticipation of something important, or at least significant, happening soon gave way to impatience and disappointment. For each mouthful consumed, Mama had had to call his name several times, sometimes stroking his jaw, sometimes holding the spoon against his lips to get any response.  
  
"That's gonna take all day," BA groused. "You gonna do that for every meal?"  
  
"Yes, I am. Every time he takes a bite, that's a little bit of him that has to come out of hidin. It's worth it."  
  
Eventually BA and Hannibal had drifted away. They knew Mama was right; that didn't make it any less boring to watch. Murdock stayed, more fascinated by Mama's technique than anything else. Finally he asked to give it a try, after it seemed that Face was responding a little more quickly to Mama's efforts.  
  
The immediate result was unexpected. No sooner had Murdock said his name for the first time than Face went rigid. Murdock kept still and slowly Face relaxed. It wasn't exactly the reaction he had hoped for, but it was, at least, a reaction.  
  
"Try again," Mama whispered.  
  
"Face, try this." Murdock almost crooned in an attempt to reassure. Again, Face tensed.  
  
Mama took over again. The relaxation was obvious, and Mama was able to get another spoonful down.  
  
Murdock remained but made no further attempts, preferring to let Mama succeed where he had failed. He tried to figure out why there would be such a reaction to his voice. He had visited Face at least once a week over the past months and had never gotten any reaction at all. Maybe Mama was right. Face had to come back a little each time - and maybe had stayed a bit longer each time. So suddenly hearing Murdock when he expected Mama might have been too much of a jolt.  
  
Eventually Mama decided Face had had enough. He was slowing down in his reactions again. She had a few hours before they would start on the supper marathon. It was a beautiful day out and she decided that they could all three use some fresh air and sunshine.  
  
Murdock found a quiet spot where they could maneuver the wheelchair and where Mama could sit in the folding chair Murdock had brought along. He himself settled on the ground facing Face and Mama. For a long time they just sat and basked in the sun.  
  
Eventually, Mama moved closer to Face. She took his hand and started talking.  
  
"Face, I want you to come back to me, okay? It don't have to be for long. Just come back for a little bit, let me know you okay. That's all I ask of you, baby. Just let me know that you okay. Can you do that for Mama?"  
  
Murdock held his breath. He knew, he just knew, that Face was not totally lost to them. Now if Mama could just get through to him somehow.  
  
*****  
  
Face was listening. He could hear Mama. He wanted to respond to her but he didn't want to come out. Not now. Not ever. There were things out there he didn't want to deal with any more. He was tired. Tired to death. He loved Mama, he really did. But she couldn't change things for him. She couldn't make it go away. And if he came back for her, he knew the others would want him to come back for them, too. Especially that one. That one was dangerous to him. That one knew what was going on, knew how to make Face think about it, talk about it, remember it.  
  
She just wanted to know he was okay. He was okay. He was fine. Everything was gone now, he didn't see those things any more, he didn't feel them any more. Didn't she understand that? Didn't any of them? Maybe if he could make them understand that, they would all leave him alone. It would mean coming back. But not for long. Like she said. Just for a bit. Just long enough to let them know. Make them understand.  
  
He steeled himself. It had been so long. What if he couldn't get back? That stopped him. What if he came out for Mama and she wouldn't let him go back? Or that one. He always made it so hard. But Mama had asked him...  
  
He was looking at her. Square in the face. Right in the eyes. Everything was clear and sharp and he could hear the wind and the birds and her voice and there was no fog, no muffling. He had come back without even trying to. Without wanting to. She had made him come back.  
  
No, no, no...  
  
They both saw it. They saw his eyes focus on her. They saw the fear in his eyes. Murdock knew. He knew Face hadn't intended to come back. He knew they might only have a few moments.  
  
"Hey, baby." Mama was talking softly. "Thank you for this. I know you're scared. There's no need to be. Not any more. No one hates you. No one blames you. Just the opposite, hon. I thank you. You saved my Scooter's life. And you gave up so much to do that. But you don't have to give up anythin more. No more. Okay? You can come home now, baby. Let Mama and Murdock and Hannibal and Scooter help you. Okay? You come on home to us."  
  
Face kept looking at her. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to come back. But he couldn't. Already the images were crowding into his head. He couldn't come back without those images coming back, too. The memories. The feelings. He couldn't get rid of them. He couldn't live with them.  
  
They watched sadly as Face slowly disappeared once again.


	43. Chapter 43

The days slowly melded into weeks. Mama stayed, taking care of her charge, feeding him, dressing him, talking to him, taking him for trips around the grounds. She talked about what it meant to her to have her son safe, thanks to Face. She talked about what it was like to have make hard choices, having to sacrifice to keep the ones they loved safe, how she knew what that was about, every parent did. She talked about what it must have been like for him, over there, all alone, doing things he knew were wrong but that had to be done anyway, for his family. And talking about his coming back, needing him to come back, wanting him to come back. Asking him to make yet another sacrifice for his family. That she knew it was a sacrifice, how hard it would be for him, but that he needed to do this one last thing for them.  
  
And he would come back, on occasion. Usually for just a minute or two. Once or twice, he'd stayed a lot longer. It was almost always for Mama. Sometimes for BA. Once or twice for Hannibal. But he always retreated. Always pain or fear would fill his features and he would go away again. He would never come back for Murdock. Never for his best friend.  
  
Face knew Murdock didn't understand why. He knew it hurt him. But ironically, there was a strong sense of self preservation in Face. He would come out for the others, because they couldn't hurt him, couldn't keep him. Mama could keep him there longer than the others, but she wasn't strong enough to hold him for long. She didn't understand enough. Murdock did. Murdock knew why he went away and that made him dangerous. If he let Murdock bring him out, he was doomed. Murdock would make him embrace all the pain and the fear and the loathing and fight it. Try to fight it. Face knew he didn't have the strength for that. He knew it was useless to try.  
  
He almost came back for Murdock once. Murdock's voice had come floating through the fog, and the words got clearer and clearer, the same words Mama used. And Face had almost believed that Murdock could help him. He had, almost. But at the moment he had decided to come back, he had seen Aadil's head explode. Close up. Blood and brain flying all over him. Cinemascope. Glorious Technicolor. He'd seen it, he'd smelled it, he'd felt it. And he knew once again that that's what Murdock promised him.  
  
He knew Mama was feeding him those pills, too. The sweet sweet spoonfuls of poison into his system. But he couldn't refuse it. Somewhere within his twisted logic he still knew she was only trying to help him by giving him those things. She didn't know any better. When those pills started to work, it would be almost as bad as Murdock. Almost. The difference, he somehow knew, would be that those pills would not only bring back those things from which he hid. They would give him another way out. He didn't know how he knew that. Maybe from watching Murdock for all those years. He really had listened to the doctors when they talked about this medication or that that Murdock was taking. So he knew what would start happening. Probably soon. She'd been giving him that stuff for some time now. So the poison had slowly been building up. Eventually it would overwhelm him. It was already starting. That was one reason he'd been coming out so often. It was weakening him already. So be it. He wasn't so far out of things that he couldn't plan for the inevitable.  
  
*****  
  
There had been nothing further from Carla. That in itself made Hannibal more wary. She couldn't let Stockwell's death go unavenged. The ideal situation with the farm had turned against him in that respect. There was too much area to cover with only three men. Anyone wanting to take them on would be almost on top of them before they would know. That cut their reaction time down to nearly nothing. Having Mama there, and Maggie a frequent and known visitor, added to his unease. In an attempt to cover their asses, he set BA to researching, acquiring, and setting up an electronic security system for the largest perimeter possible.  
  
Hannibal had a lot of worries these days. Worries about things he felt lost about. In a way, the threat from Langley was just what he needed. The challenge of the known unknown. He knew Stockwell's methods. He hadn't known Carla's. He hadn't, in fact, known that he would be dealing with Carla. Hadn't known until the elephant showed up. She was the only one who would have known the significance of that. So now he had to try and figure out how a woman, evidently as ruthless as Stockwell, would act and react. He already had some clues.  
  
She had, for instance, an ironic sense of humor that Hannibal could appreciate. She was playing with them. That anonymous call to security at the hospital had to have come from her, or her people. She didn't want Face dead - at least, not yet. Maybe never. He had, after all, spared her life. But Stockwell was dead. Did she feel the need to teach them a lesson for the shoulder, or seek higher revenge for Stockwell? Or did she see Stockwell's death as more fortuitous than tragedy? Did she know who had taken Stockwell? Or did she blame Face? Whether she was working from a sense of business preservation - show the people she would be dealing with that she was no light weight - or from a sense of personal revenge, he didn't know yet. And that would weigh into the equation. Someone working from a purely practical point of view would be much easier to predict. Someone out for revenge could do almost anything.  
  
So Hannibal was now fighting his own two front war. The one with Carla, the outside. The one for Face, the inside. The one he knew how to handle. The other...the other he just played by ear.  
  
*****  
  
While Mama was generally happy with the way things were going, she knew Murdock was hurting. So one day she left BA in charge of Face while she took Murdock aside for a chat.  
  
They walked around the meadow, not getting too far out into the open. Hannibal had warned them all about making themselves targets. It hadn't been lost on Murdock, but he was a little worried about Mama understanding what that meant. So he made sure he was the one leading the walk. It didn't take her long to get to the point.  
  
"You don't like it that Face don't react to you like he does everyone else, do you?"  
  
Murdock shook his head. "It's not a matter of liking it or not. I just don't understand it. We used to be best friends. You'd think, if he was going to trust anyone right now, it'd be me."  
  
"You know him pretty well, don't you? Better'n any of the others."  
  
"I used to think so."  
  
"I think it's still true. I think that's why he's scared of you."  
  
"Scared of me? Why? He should know that I only want to help him. Not to put down the other guys, but he should come to me before anyone. That's what best friends do."  
  
"Oh, he knows you want to help. And he knows that you know him better'n than anyone. That's what scares him. If he lets you in, you'll make him do the very things he's runnin away from. And he don't want to do that. He don't think he can. Because he knows that you, and maybe only you, will make him, that makes him afraid of you."  
  
Murdock stood still for a few moments, deep in thought. He knew she was right. The doctor he had feared the most was the one that made him work the hardest, deal with the tough stuff. Dr. Richter. But it was Dr. Richter who had helped him, too. The only one who could.  
  
"So what do I do? I can't help him if he won't let me in."  
  
"Well, maybe we just need to put him in a position where he don't have as much choice about it. You need to start spendin more time with him and me. When he opens up to me, you step in. We can't push him too hard like that, but we can make a start. One o' these days, he'll slip and there you'll be. Then it's just gonna be a matter of lettin him know that, even though you're gonna work him, he's gonna set the pace of that work. So he don't get scared off completely."  
  
Murdock smiled at her.  
  
"You're one smart lady, y'know that, Mama?"  
  
Mama just chuckled as they headed back to the house.  
  
*****  
  
Face, Mama and Murdock were sitting in the sun room. Mama was trying to get him to hold the spoon for himself. It might be way too early for something that 'active', but it never hurt to try. She would place the spoon in his fingers, and fold the fingers around it. And there it would sit. She didn't give up though. She would hold the spoon in his hand and feed him that way. Eventually he'd get the idea.  
  
She continued to talk to him, of course. And every time he'd come back for her, Murdock would step in. And Face would retreat. It got frustrating for all of them, but none were willing to give up. Face wanted to connect with Mama. If he had to fight off Murdock to do it, so be it.  
  
That particular day Face was feeling stronger. Maybe it was those pills, maybe not. He never knew what was him and what wasn't. Didn't matter. He came out and there was Murdock. But this time Murdock didn't say anything about overseas, or the team, or how Face was feeling. Instead, he started pointing out what a beautiful day it was, how the sun was shining so bright, had he noticed how warm it felt?  
  
And Face decided this was safe. This he could stay with. Yes, it was beautiful outside. And the warmth felt good. He was always cold but today the sun came in through the windows and beat down on his legs and felt good. It made him feel good. And if he concentrated on that, the images didn't come. At least not as strong. He could beat them back. That surprised him. He looked closer at Murdock. Yeah, that was all right. Murdock had brought him the sun. The warmth. No memories. No thinking about things. Instead he'd brought Face a weapon against the images.  
  
He smiled. And that felt good, too.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock knew that what he was doing wasn't working. He'd try to talk to Face like Mama did, tried to let him know that everything was okay, that Murdock knew how things had been, that he didn't blame Face. But it didn't work. Face wouldn't accept him. It was too threatening. So Murdock decided it was time to change tactics. Let the others do the nasty stuff for now. The pilot had to get Face to trust him, to feel comfortable with him. So Murdock couldn't bring in any threats, any possible harm. He had to bring Face good things. Safe things. Pretty things.  
  
So when Face came back that day, he jumped in, just like he had been. But he started talking about the weather, how beautiful it was, the warmth of the day. It had surprised Mama, that's for sure. But it kept Face with him. It surprised and scared him that suddenly Face was actually focusing on him. He saw it. Face looked right at him. Still not totally in reality, but staying with him. And then the miracle happened.  
  
Face smiled at him.  
  
Not a big smile. Really just a ghost of one. But a smile. The first positive emotion Face had shown anyone. Usually he was like an uninterested observer, until whatever it was he was hiding from started working on him. And then the fear would show in his face and he'd be gone again. But now he was smiling. At Murdock. So Murdock smiled back, and kept talking about the safe things. The pretty things. And Face stayed. For a long time. For as long as Murdock talked. And finally, apparently worn out, he fell asleep. He didn't go away. He just fell peacefully asleep.  
  
Mama and Murdock beamed at each other. Then Mama hurried to tell the others about their little miracle.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and BA were ecstatic. This was the first really positive thing that had happened to any of them in months. Leave it to Murdock to figure out how to handle Face, Hannibal thought.  
  
It was to be a day of extremes. First they got the 'miracle' smile. Then they got Carla.  
  
Murdock was helping Mama get Face onto the bed so he could sleep more comfortably. His bed was in one corner, with windows on one side and at the foot, the main house wall behind him, and the expanse of the remainder of the sun room on the fourth side. They had no sooner gotten him settled and stepped away than the window beside the bed exploded into millions of pieces. Mama screamed and dropped to the floor, heart pounding. Murdock threw himself on top of her, frantically asking her if she were hurt. There was a deafening silence then, followed by the sound of a car screeching away. Seconds later Hannibal and BA came pounding in. As BA crouched over his mother and Murdock, Hannibal, gun in hand, checked out the window before leaning over Face. In a move no one expected, Face grabbed the gun away from a startled Hannibal and pointed it directly into Hannibal's face.  
  
"Hey, hey, kid, take it easy!" Hannibal spoke urgently but softly. He slowly straightened up, backing away from the gun. Face was bleeding profusely from glass cuts on his face and arms, and the skin beneath the blood was ghostly pale. Face was holding the gun in his left hand, and it was shaking almost uncontrollably. Hannibal was quite sure Face had no idea who he was pointing the weapon at, and could only hope that he wouldn't accidentally pull that trigger.  
  
BA had started to get up but Hannibal literally shoved him back down with his foot.  
  
"Stay down before someone gets their head blown off!" 'Like me,' he thought grimly.  
  
"Face, settle down - the shooting's over. They're gone, okay? It's safe now. You can put the gun down. Just lay it down, kid. No one's gonna shoot any one now, okay?"  
  
Face held the gun up for a few more seconds, then let his hand fall heavily to the bed. Hannibal cautiously reached over and took the gun from the limp fingers. Face was still shaking, and started trying to wipe the blood from his eyes and face.  
  
"Hold still, Face. You've got glass in those cuts." Looking down at BA, who was once again starting to get up, he anxiously asked, "Everyone okay there?"  
  
"Yeah, we're good, Hannibal. Some little cuts on both of 'em. But I get ma hands on Carla..." BA was livid that any one had dared take a shot at his mama.  
  
"We'll get her, BA. When it's time." Taking another glance at Face, he hurried out to the telephone for Maggie. He was worried about how deep some of the cuts were. In the back of his mind was another worry - the fact that Face, despite his weakened condition, had been able to grab and handle the pistol with his left hand. He hadn't known Face to be a lefty with a weapon before this...  
  
Maggie was over within a few minutes. Mama had, after seeing the blood all over Face, ignored her own injuries and was gently trying to persuade him not to rub at his face or arms. Luckily, the rest of his body had been protected by a thick coverlet. That entire end of the sun room was covered in glass shards. Murdock and BA had carefully drawn the covers away from Face, and BA took him into the living room, laying him gently on one of the couches.  
  
It took Maggie quite some time to get him cleaned up and checked over. Luckily the window had shattered, so while there were many small pieces none had been big enough to cause major injury. But Face was in a great deal of pain and confused and scared as well, and Maggie had a lot of glass to find and pull out. She had to practically bathe his face and arms in antiseptic. Hannibal and BA had to hold him still while Maggie worked on him. Mama tried to soothe him also, but was still so shaken herself Maggie insisted she go lay down on the other couch. Murdock took her place with Face. Finally the ordeal was over, and Face was given a mild pain killer to help him sleep. Maggie then tended to Mama and Murdock.  
  
Hannibal now had opportunity to let his anger go. He paced the floor, a stream of smoke coming from his cigar. This had been too close. BA's mother could have been seriously injured, and Face...well, who knew what affect this could have on him. Damn! Just when he had started making some real progress. Something had to be done about Carla, but he was at a loss as to where to begin. He could hardly divide up the team at this point, and he couldn't leave Face and Mama alone while the rest hunted her down. Damn Carla!  
  
"Oh, Hannibal, I found this at the front gate. I'm not sure what it means, but it was addressed to you."  
  
Hannibal knew what it was without looking. The little model airplane...


	44. Chapter 44

Face realized now that he had become too complacent. He thought the only danger was from the team. He knew better now. He had almost forgotten Stockwell. Stockwell was not finished with him; therefore, he was not finished with Stockwell. He had to regroup. Make plans. Get out of here.  
  
Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. He had to come out. He had to stay out. He would just have to deal with the nightmare out there as best he could. Just until Stockwell was out of the picture. Then he knew the team would truly be safe. After that, well, after that he knew what he needed to do. No point in dwelling on that. Damn damn damn. Face just wanted to rest.  
  
You knew it was a mistake, bud, letting Mama in. Letting her give you those pills. And Murdock. You got weak there, too.  
  
Face had thought maybe there was a chance, just a chance he could have something back. Just a little something. The sunshine. That had been nice. He really had thought, for just a little while, that he could have at least those things back.  
  
Foolish, foolish boy. You don't deserve those things, bud. You should have known. The price, bud. Remember the price.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal, BA and Murdock had their hands full setting up the perimeter equipment. Hannibal wasn't sure if it would do any good, or if it was even necessary now. He didn't think Carla would come back to the farm. She would know their defenses would be up now. No, it was more for peace of mind than actual security that they were installing the cameras and other devices. Carla would hit them somewhere else the next time. He worried about Maggie. Maybe she should stay with them on the farm. At least Mama was here, out of her reach, at least now. Who else could she go after? Father Magill? No, he didn't think even Carla would go that far. That would mean involving the Church. He didn't think she'd want that kind of complication. That only left Dr. Richter. Again, that would involve the wrong people. No, Maggie was the only weak link right now.  
  
Periodically one of them would make a quick run back to the house to check on things. Mama seemed to have recovered from the attack. She was tough, just like her son. She was more angry now than anything. Face...Face had gone back into his shell. Deep this time. Even Mama hadn't been able to bring him out yet. Hannibal hoped it hadn't set him back too far. He cursed the day he'd ever met Stockwell and his bunch.  
  
Murdock was having a hard time, too. He had finally broken through to Face and now he'd lost him again. He was torn between helping set up their defenses and wanting to be with Face. He knew Hannibal didn't really think the precautions they were taking were really needed now, but they couldn't be sure. He kept his fingers crossed that Mama would be able to get to Face, somehow.  
  
BA was working like a madman. He would have his mama protected before the day was done. Wasn't no one gonna get to her again. He'd tried to send her packing to Chicago, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was staying with her 'boys'. And Hannibal had reminded him that Carla would know where she lived; she was safer here with them than back east. So he was going to make sure she was as safe as she could possibly be. And God help that Carla when he caught up with her...  
  
*****  
  
He was ready. He'd been working up to this all day. He wouldn't let Mama know it was happening. He couldn't. She would try to force things and he wasn't ready for that. This had to be on his terms. The images were there again. He thought of Stockwell. Concentrated on him. The images started fading. Okay. So that's the way it had to be. Focus on the mission. It wasn't finished yet. Focus on that. Focus. Keep everything else at bay.  
  
Okay. Things were coming back now. Sights. Sounds. Even smells. That was new. He hadn't noticed them before. Good. He saw Mama, sitting off to the side. Every now and then she would glance over at him. He pretended not to see her. At some point she would leave him. He hoped he would be ready. He looked down at his body, sitting in that damn chair. It would be a problem. Too long immobile. He would have to use all his resources. All of them. Like with the gun. He didn't know exactly where that strength had come from. Well, he'd use it now, to his advantage. Control. He'd had it once, he'd bring it back again.  
  
He very carefully tried moving his left arm. It still hurt from the glass but he could move it. Enough anyway. Right arm. Okay. He looked at his hand. He regretted that now. Had he remembered Stockwell was still out there...didn't matter now. His left hand would just have to take care of things now.  
  
Another glance at Mama. Damn. Had she seen something? No, she went back to her reading. Good. Now the tough part. Legs. Could he even move them, let alone walk? He tried the left leg. Nothing. Try harder, damn it. Harder.  
  
His leg jerked. Too much. Mama looked up, startled.  
  
"Face?" She came hurrying over.  
  
Keep quiet. Quiet. Don't look at her. Not in the eye. See through her.  
  
"Face?"  
  
She looked closely at him, shook her head in puzzlement, and went back to her chair. She sat, watching him for a few more moments. Went back to her reading. Finally.  
  
Okay. He could move the left leg. Not well, but he could. He would need to wait a bit to try the other one. That was okay. He would keep working. He had time. Not a lot. But enough.  
  
*****  
  
What time was it? Late, he knew that. It was dark out. There wasn't another sound in the house. Good. No prying eyes. He went through the maneuvers again for what seemed like the thousandth time in the last week; arms, legs. Right leg still moved better than the left. Not much better but a little. Now, could he sit up again? Barely. Man, that hurt. No muscles left. Nada. He could at least get in the wheelchair. He hoped. He hadn't dared try it before now. Then out the sun room door, across the yard. He'd have to break into the van. BA always, always locked it. He hoped he wouldn't be too rusty for that. Then he'd have to hot-wire it. And get out of Dodge before the others could get downstairs. Great. Piece of cake.  
  
Hey, don't worry about, bud. We'll get there. We'll get the job done. We always do.  
  
Right. He moved to the edge of the bed. How could he be so out of breath already? He could feel his arm muscles trembling, just from the effort of holding him upright. Great, just great. Stockwell would laugh himself to death if he could see his adversary right now.  
  
Shut up and get moving, bud.  
  
Right. He grabbed his sweatshirt. That hadn't taken much practice at all. Pants. Those he still couldn't handle easily. He had to stop for a few minutes, catch his breath yet again.  
  
Move it, bud.  
  
He reached over, pulling himself into the wheelchair. He fell into it, one leg hanging up on the arm rest. He sat there for a few moments, not only trying to gather himself together but trying to determine if anyone had heard his graceless moves. Nothing. Okay. He pulled his leg off the arm and settled himself into the seat more comfortably. He slipped his feet into tennis shoes. He couldn't tie them but it was better than nothing. Taking a deep breath, he started pushing himself toward the door. It wasn't easy, one-handed. He had to try and guide the chair with his feet, which weren't cooperating. He hadn't thought it would be that hard to move a wheelchair, for God's sake. By the time he finally reached the door, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to go any further that night. Hell, that year. His whole body was running with sweat and trembling with the exertion.  
  
C'mon, wimp, get going. You gotta be outa here before anyone wakes up.  
  
I know, I know. I'm going.  
  
He fumbled with the lock on the door. It was old and stuck a bit. Damn, was anything going to be easy tonight? Well, yeah. At least the sun room opened directly onto the lawn - no steps. That would've been a real treat. As it was, the ground was wet with dew and slippery. It seemed like if the wheels weren't slipping, his feet were. And it was cold out here, too, despite his sweat clothes.  
  
Any more complaints, hero? Want to give up, go back to bed? Wait for Stockwell to kill them all off?  
  
Shut up.  
  
He was near the corner of the house when he saw him. BA. Damn. What was he doing out at this time of night? Patrolling. He hadn't known about that. No one had talked about those kinds of things around him. Had he heard anything? Seen anything? No. No, he kept walking, around the front of the house. Okay. He had to move. Now. Quickly. If he could get around the corner of the garage, BA couldn't see him from the house.  
  
Move it, bud.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, he reached the garage. He sat for a few more precious minutes, trying desperately to catch his breath. Waited for BA to come around the house again. Waited. There. Would he notice anything? No. Too dark. He was looking around the perimeter, not at the ground. Face held his breath as BA came within a few yards of the garage. Cursory patrol. They must have other security measures in place. BA just being paranoid.  
  
A few more minutes, just a few more minutes and he'd be in the van. He could hot-wire it in a few seconds. BA moved around the front of the house again. Face started pushing again. Almost there. Almost.  
  
Face sagged in defeat. His picks. He didn't have his picks. Think, Peck, damn it. He looked at the chair. Anything there he could use? Not really. Purely mechanical. No small wires. Wait a minute. He looked up at the van. Antenna. The very end of it was pretty small. It'd be a butcher job but it might work. He reached up, just barely reached it. Grabbing hold, he took a deep breath and pulled with all his strength. The antenna jerked but didn't come off. Shit. Taking a firmer grip, he pulled himself upright. One more time. He jerked again, falling heavily back into the chair. Triumphantly holding the freed antenna.  
  
Funny what you can do when you have to.  
  
It was definitely a butcher job on the lock. But he got it open. Where was BA? He should be coming around the house again. Nothing. Where was he? Face couldn't wait much longer. He had to get going. Take the chance. More sweating and cursing under his breath getting up out of the chair and into the driver's seat. Rest a minute. Okay. Dashboard. Wires. Which ones? Which ones?  
  
You idiot. This is child's play, bud. Just do it.  
  
The engine suddenly roared to life. Face pulled the door shut, wrapped his right wrist around the shift and yanked it into reverse. Hitting the gas, the tires spun. He almost lost control of it but managed to get his foot on the brake pedal, slammed the brakes on. Pushing into first gear, he again spun out, straightened the wheel and roared down the drive, running right over the wheelchair.  
  
*****  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
Hannibal jerked awake at the roaring engine outside. He raced to the window, wondering how the hell anyone had gotten past their alarms. He saw the taillights swerving down the drive. Damn! He raced out and met Murdock and Mama on the stairway.  
  
"Check Face!" he shouted, running out the front door.  
  
BA was already there. He was staring in disbelief at the driveway - no van, the remains of the wheelchair - when Murdock came racing out of the house.  
  
"Face is gone, Colonel! Someone must have grabbed him..." he stopped, seeing the chair.  
  
"Call Maggie, Murdock. We need her car, fast."  
  
"Right." Murdock galloped back into the house.  
  
BA was looking down the drive, watching the dust settle in the early rays of the sun. He shook his head. The alarms had been going off in the house for a good five minutes, set off by his precious van's departure through the gate.  
  
"Hannibal, there ain't no way anyone got through the perimeter without settin those alarms off. No Way."  
  
"Obviously someone did, BA. We must have missed an area."  
  
BA shook his head. No. They hadn't missed anything. He knew. He had checked every inch of that line. He headed back to the sun room, watching the ground. He only went a few feet before he knew. The marks of the wheelchair in the wet grass showed easily in the early morning light. So did the scuff marks between them.  
  
"Hannibal!" He scowled at the marks on the ground.  
  
Wearily Hannibal joined BA at the corner of the house.  
  
"Look at those marks. You see any leading up to the house?"  
  
The colonel looked closely. Puzzled. None.  
  
"Now look at those footprints between the wheel marks. Notice?"  
  
"They're backwards." He looked closer.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They looked at each other, not wanting to believe what their eyes were telling them. A quick check of the sun room door confirmed their suspicions. No one had broken in. Someone had broken out.


	45. Chapter 45

Maggie was still half asleep as she tore down the road toward the farm. She had no idea what so urgent, but Murdock had said they needed her car immediately, that Face was gone, please hurry, so that's exactly what she had done. She still had her bathrobe on, for heaven's sake. She couldn't figure out how Face could be gone. Hannibal had shown her their new security system. A squirrel couldn't get through that network of cameras and other apparatus. So how did anyone get in, get Face, and get out again?  
  
The three men were waiting in the drive when she got there. Hannibal practically pulled her out of the car as they piled in and took off. No word of explanation at all. She turned to go into the house and gasped when she saw the wreckage of what had been Face's wheelchair. Looking up at the house, she saw Mama gesturing for her to come in. Over coffee, she heard Hannibal and BA's theory about what had actually happened.  
  
How, she kept saying to herself, how? Yesterday when she'd seen Face he was totally out of it. She knew that he shouldn't even be able to sit up by himself, let alone get into the wheelchair and out the door. And then to get to the van and...it just was not possible. Not unless the man had the will power of God himself. She said as much to Mama.  
  
"I know. I thought they was crazy when they first tol' me, too. But I looked at those tracks out there and there was just no one else on this property. I shoulda known somethin was up with him. This past week, I've seen his leg or sometimes his arm jerk while he was sittin there, but when I'd go over he'd jus be starin off again. I thought it was just like spasms or somethin. But he musta been gettin hisself ready all this time. I wish now I'd'a said somethin."  
  
"You couldn't have known, Mama. Good Lord, how could anyone have guessed something like this would happen? What I want to know is why? What on earth could make him put himself through that? I know he was badly shaken by that attack, but that much?"  
  
"I don't know that either, Maggie. I can't imagine what would make him do it. All I know is I'm scared to death for him. God only knows what's gonna happen to him out there..."  
  
*****  
  
"Which way, Colonel?" They had raced to the end of the driveway; Hannibal wracked his brain to remember which direction he'd seen the taillights turn.  
  
"Left."  
  
BA rabbited out onto the main road. The van had a full tank of gas. Enough to get all the way into Nevada. BA pictured Face stuck in the desert in the middle of the day with no gas, no water...damn. He hit the gas. Forget speed limits.  
  
Murdock figured Face probably had no more than a twenty minute head start. There weren't a lot of turnoff's on this road and no one expected him to take any anyway. He had some definite reason for leaving, which meant he would most likely take the most direct route wherever it was. But that's where they were stuck. Where the hell was he going? And why? It had to have something to do with the shooting. But Face wouldn't know it was Carla. No one had mentioned her to him. And Stockwell was gone...Face didn't know that.  
  
"Damn. He's going after Stockwell!"  
  
"But he's dead, fool."  
  
"Face doesn't know that. And who else would make him go through all this?"  
  
"Murdock's right, BA. And we gotta find him before Carla does."  
  
It was nearly three hours later they found the van. Stopped precariously in a ditch just past a sharp curve. Face wasn't in it. Nor were several small hand guns.  
  
"Okay, spread out. I don't care how determined he is, there's no way Face could walk any where. He's gotta be close. Just be careful. God only knows what's going through that head of his now."  
  
BA moved across the road. There wasn't much cover on that side and he figured one man could search it quickly. Hannibal and Murdock moved apart and started down their side. At first it was the same hard ground as BA had found, but as they moved further east tall grass started spreading through. It didn't take long to find Face's trail. Hannibal stared at it in disbelief. It was obvious their friend had struggled mightily to walk, to keep going; the path veered first in one direction, then another. But he kept going in one general direction - east.  
  
"BA, over here!" The three men started following the path of broken grass.  
  
*****  
  
It was harder driving the van than he had anticipated. With only one weakened hand to steer with, the van felt sluggish and he had to fight for every curve. Braking was agony, trying to force his foot to move from gas pedal to brake pedal and then apply the brakes. He took more curves than he cared to without braking at all. He wondered how far behind the team would be. They would have to get another vehicle - Maggie's probably. That would give him a little extra time but he needed to build the distance between them.  
  
As time moved on, he was having a harder time keeping the images from coming at him. He concentrated on the road, trying to keep them at bay for as long as possible. By the second hour of relentless driving, they were taking over. The road would disappear and there were his victims, exploding and dying and falling. It would last only a split second, but it was a split second too long. He found himself careening along the road almost out of control. Still he kept going. Stockwell. He had to get to Stockwell.  
  
Finally his luck ran out. His vision blocked by yet another nightmarish scene, he missed the curve. The van careened across the road, through the ditch and jerked to a halt, bottoming out on a sharp rise on the other side of the ditch. Face wasn't sure if he blacked out or not. He thought he might have hit his head on the driver's side window. He looked around, suddenly realizing that he was out in the middle of nowhere. He sat, staring out the windshield at the near barren countryside. Now what?  
  
Get your ass out of the van and start walking.  
  
Walking? Who are you kidding?  
  
You want Stockwell? You want the team safe? Walk.  
  
Face sighed. Okay. Fine. Whatever. He looked in the van. The storage locker was way in the back. He'd have to get at it from the back door. He had to have a weapon. As many as he could carry. Okay. Move.  
  
Face landed flat on his face when he tried to step out of the van. For a few moments he just lay there. He wasn't going to be able to do this. He couldn't. He just plain couldn't. He was going to fail, again.  
  
Loser.  
  
I can't help it. I tried.  
  
Loser. Always have been, always will be.  
  
I'm not.  
  
Then get up and get moving. You think Stockwell's just going to sit around waiting for your sorry ass to show up again?  
  
Face reached up and grabbed the door handle, struggling to a standing position. He felt dizzy, lightheaded. Images started flashing at him. Focus. Focus. Stockwell. The images faded. Okay.  
  
He leaned heavily against the side of the van. Every step cost him. It was like trying to walk on cement stilts. Only the cement kept crumbling out from under him. Didn't matter. He had to hurry. The team could come any time. He couldn't let them stop him again. He had to finish things this time. He had to.  
  
Okay, back door open. Chest. Open it up. Padlock. He looked quickly around the back of the van and saw the tire iron. It would have to do. He picked it up with his left hand. Shit. He wasn't sure if he could knock the padlock off or not.  
  
Loser.  
  
Angry. He brought the tire iron up high and smashed it down on the padlock. Again. Again. Third times a charm. He opened the chest, pulled four handguns out, stuffed them in his waistband, two in front, two in back. Two boxes of cartridges in his pockets. Okay. That would have to do.  
  
Rest. God, he wished he could just lay down somewhere and sleep. Forever. He really wanted to go away now. This was too hard. Too damn hard. God, hadn't he done enough already?  
  
No, you haven't. You haven't finished the job yet.  
  
He took a deep breath. Okay. It was a little easier walking now. Not much. But he was able to move without having to lean on the van. He'd get a couple yards before his legs would fail him. Get up, move a few more feet. Each time he got a little further before his legs would give out. I can do this.  
  
Yeah, bud, you can. I'll help you...  
  
*****  
  
The trail ended at the side of the road, maybe 200 yards from the van. They searched the area and could not find any more trace of him. BA hurried back to the car. They would have to follow the road, try to find if he left it again.  
  
And pray he hadn't gotten picked up by someone.


	46. Chapter 46

Carla's people had reported in early that morning. The van had left in a hurry at sunup. They weren't sure who was driving. Shortly after, Dr. Sullivan had arrived and almost immediately her car had raced after the van. Both were headed east. They had a man tailing and would report any further activity. As far as they could tell, only Dr. Sullivan and Mrs. Baracus were still at the farm with Peck. They had seen no one else.  
  
That was interesting. Was Smith so sure of himself that he would leave Peck and the women unguarded? Or had something happened that would force him to do that? She needed to know who was in the van, who was in the car, where they were going and why. She contacted her people. Stop whichever vehicle they could. Now.  
  
*****  
  
How long he'd been walking he had no idea. If you could it walking. He was bruised all over. His right hand hurt like hell - he'd fallen on it more than once. He wished he could trust his legs more but they would just give without warning and down he'd go. He'd finally found the roadway again and kept to it as much as possible. Not so many things to trip over or step on.  
  
The sun was almost directly overhead now and it was hot. He was sweaty and dirty and his head hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt. And those damn images. He had no control over them now. He walked into them. That was the only way he could keep going. Walk through them. He wouldn't let them stop him. Not now. He'd come too far. And Stockwell was still too far away. He'd find a ride. One way or the other.  
  
Damn! He lay where he had fallen. He could feel the blood coming from his cheek where it had slammed into the asphalt. God, that hurt. Painfully, he sat up, wiping the blood away with his hand. He had to rest. He had to. He couldn't keep going like this.  
  
He tried to stand. Couldn't. His body refused to move. So he sat. This was it. Either he would be able to get up and start moving again in a few minutes, or he'd just sit here until he was baked. Either would work for him.  
  
It was the sound that made the decision for him. A car, truck, something coming up the road. The team? Or Stockwell? Or just a stranger traveling wherever. Didn't matter. One way or another he had to move.  
  
He slid off the road, down into the ditch. He pulled one of the handguns from his waist, made sure it was loaded. He watched for the car. It came around the curve, slowly. Not the van. Stockwell? Stranger? Didn't matter. It wasn't the van. He needed wheels. He forced himself up, out onto the road. His left hand raised the pistol, aiming it at the driver's side. His hand was steady.  
  
It took only a few seconds before the car screeched to a halt. It sat, motor running. Face moved slowly toward it, keeping close to the side of the road. He figured it was a civilian. Anyone else would have realized they had a more powerful weapon than he did. He got close enough to see inside. Shit. A woman, looking scared to death. He didn't want that. But he had no choice.  
  
He opened the passenger door and got in. Pointed the gun up, away from her.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I just need a ride. A fast, careful ride. No breaking the speed limit, no weaving around. No calling attention to us. Understood?"  
  
The woman nodded, tears starting to run down her cheeks. Damn.  
  
"Look, I know you're scared. But I swear, I won't hurt you. The gun was just to get you to stop. That's all. So now we'll just start driving. As long as you don't get smart ass about this, we'll be fine. Now go."  
  
The car pulled out slowly, gathering speed. Right up to the speed limit. No more, no less. Smart woman.  
  
*****  
  
The car was parked by the side of the road. Hannibal sat still, puffing on his cigar. BA stared out the windshield at the empty road ahead. Murdock sat in the back, pulling angrily at the loose strings on his jacket. They had driven for several miles, saw nothing to indicate Face had been anywhere near. He'd lost them.  
  
"Now what, Colonel?" Murdock had snapped the last string and was distractedly looking for others.  
  
"We keep going. There were a couple cars passed while we were looking back at the van. We need to try and catch up with them. Maybe they saw something. Maybe they even picked him up." He threw the half-finished cigar out of the window. "He didn't disappear into thin air. He's here somewhere."  
  
The car pulled back onto the road. Again, BA ignored the speed limit.  
  
*****  
  
"There they are. Pull them over." They'd already checked the abandoned van. They knew they had to stop the car or Carla would have their heads. The dark sedan sped up, slowly gaining on the car with the three men in it. BA saw it immediately.  
  
"Comp'ny, Hannibal. Not cops neither."  
  
Hannibal glanced back. No one drove that kind of car around here. Had to be. Was Face with them? No, they'd come from behind. They couldn't have found him first.  
  
"Lose 'em, BA. We don't have time for bullshit."  
  
"Can't with this thing, Hannibal," BA nodded at the dash of Maggie's car. "Don't have the guts."  
  
Hannibal sighed. He was going to owe Maggie big for this one.  
  
"Okay, Murdock. Head down." He pulled himself around in the seat, pulling his automatic at the same time. Two shots took out the rear window. He rapid fired at the car behind, hitting the grill half a dozen times. Steam spewed out of the engine compartment and the black sedan screamed to a halt.  
  
"Okay, Sergeant. Let's catch up with those cars." He lit another cigar. Then grinned. That had felt good.  
  
*****  
  
Joe had warned her about taking this road alone. Time and time again. She wouldn't brush him off next time. God willing there was a next time. She kept glancing at the filthy man with the gun. He was crazy, she knew that. And violent. That gun. Who'd he shot? Who'd he killed before commandeering her car? Was she next? At least he kept it pointed at the roof and not at her.  
  
He kept staring straight ahead, watching the road. Occasionally he would glance out the rear window. He never said a word to her after those first commands. But he was talking. Mumbling to himself. Or to someone. What she could hear almost sounded like he was arguing with someone. If she ever got out of this, she would never, ever take this road again. Even with Joe. Never.  
  
*****  
  
He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have taken this woman hostage. He was doing it again. Screwing things up, making everything so much worse. He should let her go.  
  
Yeah, and let Stockwell dance away as well, right?  
  
I could take the car. I don't need her, too.  
  
How are you going to drive, bud? Our little friends are dancing like sugar plums all through your head. You can't stop them. Can you?  
  
I can drive. I can control them.  
  
Bullshit. You've lost it. Let me handle things. I can do it for you.  
  
No. I've seen how you handle things.  
  
Ditto, bud. See how screwed up you've made things. You should've let me do this my way.  
  
Shut up.  
  
Yeah, whatever.  
  
*****  
  
They had stopped two cars so far, and a pickup. Other than scaring the occupants half to death, they had accomplished nothing. No one had seen the van on the road, no one had seen a man walking. All they had done was lose precious time.  
  
They had had to pull off the highway to get gas. More out of desperation than hope, Murdock had asked the attendant if she had seen anything unusual that morning. At first the girl said no, but then changed her mind.  
  
"Oh, well, there was that one car..."  
  
"What car?"  
  
"About a half hour ago, maybe a bit longer. Nice lady driving, kind of a scuzzball with her, if you know what I mean. She pulled in and Danny - that's the other attendant - filled up the car for her. Said she was in a hurry and her brother wasn't feeling well. Danny said he was really weird, y'know?" She snapped her gum.  
  
"Where's this Danny? Can I talk to him?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, he's over there filling up that truck."  
  
Murdock almost ran to the other attendant. He spent a few minutes talking to him, then hurried over to their own car.  
  
"Okay, they were here, Hannibal."  
  
"They?"  
  
"Yeah, single woman and Face. The attendant said he was really out of it, mumbling to himself. The woman claimed he was her brother, that he wasn't feeling well. They headed back to the highway, maybe 45 minutes ago."  
  
"Let's go, BA!"  
  
*****  
  
"Mister?"  
  
Silence. He was still staring out the window.  
  
"Mister?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Uh, my husband, well, he'll be wondering where I am. How much, uh, how much farther did you want to go? I mean, well, he'll be wondering, you know?"  
  
"We'll go until I say we stop. Now just shut up."  
  
You didn't have to talk her like that.  
  
She needs to keep quiet. I can't think with her yammering like that.  
  
She's just scared.  
  
Like I care. We need to get as far east as the junker will take us.  
  
I told you I didn't like your methods.  
  
Tough. You can't handle it, bud. I need to deal with all your crap so just shut up and let me.  
  
Ok.  
  
Damn right, 'ok'.  
  
Face stared out the window. Watched his victims explode, fall and die. Over and over and over again...


	47. Chapter 47

There was something about his demeanor that made her even more nervous than before. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something "meaner" about him. It wasn't just that he'd gotten so nasty with her earlier. The way he was sitting, for one thing. Before he'd been slouched down, tired like. Now he was almost ramrod straight, and he was tensed up. He didn't just stare out the window any more, either. He was watching everything - including her - more closely. And the gun tended to be pointed in her direction instead of at the ceiling, which definitely made her nervous. He looked over at her and she quickly looked back at the road. Those eyes were so cold!  
  
They'd been driving for almost four hours straight now and she was getting so tired. It was hard to keep her eyes open. She wanted to ask him if they could stop for a break, but she was scared to. He might just decide to leave her if he thought she couldn't drive any more. And she didn't want to find out if he'd leave her alive or not. Or if he had anything else in mind. Maybe when they stopped for gas next he'd let her get out of the car for a bit. She really needed the ladies' room, too.  
  
He was looking behind them much more often now. She hadn't noticed anything odd. There was a car that had been behind them for some time, but that wasn't unusual to her way of thinking. They were on a highway, after all. But it seemed to make this guy nervous.  
  
He was mumbling to himself yet again. That had changed, too. Before, she had only thought it sounded like he was talking with someone. Now it was obvious he thought he was having a conversation. One voice would be louder and sarcastic. Then he'd say something in a real soft voice. And then the sarcastic one would answer. It was really unnerving. Scary. Dear God, just let me get out of this in one piece.  
  
*****  
  
But it's not the van.  
  
You idiot, of course it's not the van. You left the van in the ditch. They must have Maggie's car.  
  
Oh. I don't remember what that looks like.  
  
Big help, bud. I don't like it. Nobody drives that slow.  
  
We're driving that slow.  
  
Because you told the bitch not to speed, dummy! Nobody in their right mind would drive this Godforsaken road at the speed limit.  
  
Have her speed up. See what they do.  
  
Miracle - the kid has good idea.  
  
"Hey, you."  
  
The woman jumped. Scared, huh? Just wait.  
  
"Take her up to 70."  
  
"70?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, seven zero? Do it."  
  
He felt the car accelerate and looked back. For a moment the car behind them fell behind. Only for a moment. It picked up speed. A lot of speed. It was catching up.  
  
Guess that answers that question.  
  
"Okay, lady, we got a little situation here. So you get this junker flying a little low, understand?" The gun was only a few inches from her temple.  
  
"Y-y-y-yes." The car sped up. So did the car behind. For a moment. Then it suddenly slowed down. Yeah, good. They'd seen the gun on her. Good. Let them think about that for a while.  
  
*****  
  
"That's them, Hannibal. That's the car the kid described." Murdock was watching from the back seat, nerves taut.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay, BA, keep them in sight but stay loose. We gotta worry about that woman. If you see an opening to force them off the road without too much danger to her, do it."  
  
"Right, Hannibal."  
  
"What if there isn't a place? Then what?"  
  
"They've been driving for a while, Murdock. In this heat, that car can't be doing too well on gas. Eventually they've got to stop. We'll be there when they do."  
  
They settled back, trying to relax until the right opportunity came up. BA kept a safe distance for several miles, dropping back occasionally but keeping their quarry in sight. Suddenly the car ahead of them sped way up.  
  
"We been made, Hannibal." BA scowled.  
  
"Damn. Get him, BA."  
  
BA sped up, trying to catch up. This would be much trickier, because Face would not want to let them get close enough to pull any stunts. But there was a civilian driver, and that could work to their advantage. She wouldn't be able to outmaneuver them.  
  
"Damn! Slow down, BA! Pull back!" Hannibal was shouting in his ear.  
  
BA looked in surprise at Hannibal. He mutely pointed to the car ahead - where BA could easily see the silhouette of the gun pointed at the woman's head. He immediately backed off.  
  
"What the hell is he doing?" Murdock was aghast that his friend would threaten anyone like that, let alone a woman.  
  
"He's letting us know he's in charge, Murdock. Very much in charge." Hannibal sat back in defeat. "Keep back, BA. But for God's sake, don't lose him."  
  
*****  
  
Put that down! You don't need to do that!  
  
Geez, bud, settle down. You didn't think I'd really shoot her, do you? That'd crash the damn car, dummy. You think I want to die? No way, Jose.  
  
So don't do it again. I mean it.  
  
Yeah, right...You'd like to see us dead, wouldn't you? Solve a lot of your problems, wouldn't it, bud? Fucking coward.  
  
Enough!  
  
Yeah, whatever.  
  
I never should have let you go. I never...  
  
Never should've agreed to Stockwell's plans. Don't forget, kiddo, you're the one who did that. Not me. This whole mess is your fault. I'm just trying to clean it up for you. You oughta be grateful.  
  
"But you're making it worse!"  
  
Face hadn't realized he'd shouted. It scared the woman badly. She jerked the wheel, and the car started to skid. It swerved from side to side, the woman crying hysterically as she tried to control the careening vehicle. They hit the gravel shoulder and she lost it. The car zipped off the road, down through the ditch and hung up on a thick growth of brush.  
  
It took Face a moment to realize they'd come to a stop. The woman was frantically trying to open her door to escape. In a second, Face realized that the car that had been behind them was now rolling to a screeching halt on the road, only yards away.  
  
Damn.  
  
He shoved the gun in the woman's side. She stopped dead still.  
  
"Okay, open the door slowly and get out. I'll be right behind you. Do anything I don't tell you to and you are one dead bitch."  
  
The woman nodded and did as she was told. She stepped carefully out of the car. She heard him stumble a bit as he got out of the car, then felt the gun up against her ribs. He was leaning against the wrecked car, keeping her close. She looked at the three men who had piled out of the other car. She wasn't sure if they would be help for her or not. She started praying to herself.  
  
*****  
  
"Seems we have a bit of a problem here, Colonel." The man was almost mocking in his tone.  
  
"I don't think so, Face. Nothing we can't work out, anyway. But you need to let that lady go."  
  
"Uh uh uh, Colonel. She's my insurance. Can't have you running one of your plans, can I? No, there's a simple solution to this little predicament. You move away and let the lady and I take your car. I'm sure someone will come along eventually and give you a lift."  
  
Hannibal was shaking his head. "Sorry, Face, you know we can't do that."  
  
Murdock had been watching and listening, not so much to Hannibal, but to Face, and he sure as hell didn't sound or act like the Face he'd known. And yet, it did. There was something familiar yet foreign in the man holding the gun. If he was right...  
  
Murdock stepped off to one side, slightly in front of Hannibal. Their quarry immediately shifted to meet the new challenge.  
  
"Face, you have to put the gun down."  
  
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen, Captain."  
  
"I'm not talking to you, jerk! I'm talking to Face. Put the gun down. You don't want to hurt her. You don't want to hurt any of us."  
  
"Try something, see how much I don't, bud."  
  
"Shut up. C'mon, Face. You kept things under control for so long - don't quit now, okay?"  
  
The man stood there looking at Murdock with nothing but contempt.  
  
"You gonna just let it go, then, Face? Everything you believe, everything Hannibal taught you? Just let it go because it's too hard?"  
  
Face hesitated. "No." He shook his head. "No, I didn't want to, Murdock. But it got away. I couldn't..."  
  
"Nah, it's not gone, Face. Never was. If it had been, you wouldn't be going through all this hell. You've been battering yourself with guilt for so long, muchacho, you're just tired. I know how that is, you know I do. But this isn't the way to fix it."  
  
"But Stockwell..."  
  
"Stockwell's dead, Face. He died that night at The Meadows."  
  
Face went white. The gun dropped to his side. The woman stood perfectly still. She didn't understand any of this but she wasn't moving until someone told her to.  
  
"Dead? I don't...I don't understand...the farm..."  
  
"That wasn't Stockwell, Face. That was Carla. She's in charge now. But you know she's not like Stockwell. She may be an ass but she's not in his league. Stockwell's not gonna hurt anyone else, Face."  
  
"How do you know? Maybe it was a trick..."  
  
Hannibal pushed forward. "I know it, kid. I know it because I took care of it. Believe me. He's not coming after anyone any more."  
  
"He's really gone?"  
  
"Really gone, Face."  
  
Hannibal could not remember seeing anyone look so totally lost as Face did at that moment.  
  
*****  
  
Gone? Gone. No more. Dead. He wouldn't have to worry about him any more. Not now. Not ever. He realized he was still holding the gun. He didn't need that any more either. It fell to the ground. He saw Murdock motioning, realized the woman was still standing there. She ran to the pilot, sobbing. How many nightmares would she have now, because of him?  
  
Chalk up another one, bud.  
  
God, go away and leave me alone.  
  
Sure. Sure, until the next time you need me to clean up for you, right? Then you'll come crying for help again.  
  
No. I never want to see you again. You're history.  
  
Sure, kid. Sure.  
  
Face looked up. They were all staring at him. He sighed. He was so tired. So tired. At least now there was nothing holding him back. He could quit. It was over. All over. He could go away now and stay.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had been watching Face closely after the woman ran from him. He was staring off into space again, but his lips were moving and Hannibal thought he could hear him talking. This was new. And he wasn't sure he liked it. BA and Murdock had noticed it, too. The woman was the only one who didn't seem fazed by it. She watched him, but more out of continued apprehension than surprise.  
  
Face suddenly stopped his mumbling and looked at the team. It was almost a look of resignation that went over his features, and they watched helplessly as his eyes shut down and he went back to his place of safety. It took Hannibal two quick steps to catch him as he fell.  
  
They needed to get moving. They had to get Face back to the farm, and they had to get this woman back to her family. Somehow they had to deal with what Face had done to her. They couldn't stop her from going to the police if she chose to, but maybe they could convince her not to. Ironically, right now was when they needed their con man the most.  
  
Hannibal motioned for BA to take Face to the car. "Put him in the front, BA," he said, nodding toward the woman.  
  
Murdock and Hannibal flanked the woman in the back seat. She had calmed down considerably but was still understandably upset. Well, they had at least a four hour drive back to the gas station to try and reach some sort of 'understanding' with her. Hopefully keep Face out of jail. Hopefully keep them from going back on the run. Hopefully.  
  
*****  
  
For the next few hours, Hannibal and Murdock talked with the woman, whose name, they learned, was Molly. First they had to calm her down, try to reassure her she was safe. Not an easy job, with both Face and BA sitting right in front of her. Finally they were able to soothe her enough that she could tell them what exactly had happened to her. Then they explained, broadly, the "emotional problems" Face had been having.  
  
"Under normal circumstances, he's not at all dangerous." Murdock was oozing sincerity.  
  
"So, when he gets upset, this other person comes out? Like Sybil?" Molly wasn't sure she believed in that sort of thing.  
  
"No, no, not at all like that." Murdock sat on the edge of the seat so he could more easily look directly at her. "It's like, well, like when you were in the car. The way you behaved - is that the kind of person you usually are?"  
  
Molly thought about it. No, usually she was a take charge person, didn't let anyone push her around. She dealt with customers at a wholesale lumber yard - no, she was not easily intimidated. But then, those customers didn't carry guns.  
  
"Exactly. You have one dominant personality under normal circumstances. But you knew that wouldn't work here. So you took on a different one - submissive, cooperative. It's what we all do - take on the personality trait that suits the situation, what we need to do. That's not 'Sybil' - that's just normal."  
  
"This guy had been threatening our friend." Hannibal would be playing a little loose with the truth here but it didn't really matter. He had to make his point. "Normally, he would have been able to deal with it in a reasonable manner. But, because of the problems he's been having, he, uh, overreacted. And he did things he never would have normally, in order to protect his family."  
  
"But this man who was threatening him, he'd dead now?"  
  
"Yes, he died just recently. Unfortunately our friend didn't know that. That was our fault for not telling him."  
  
"So, now that this guy is dead, your friend will be okay? He won't try this kind of thing again?"  
  
"Well," Murdock didn't want to sound too Pollyanna; Molly didn't appear to be stupid. "I can't say that he's going to be okay. He has other problems. But, now that he knows the threat is gone, there's no reason for him to take this kind of action again."  
  
Molly thought about it for quite some time. She had relatives with 'problems'. She didn't understand it all that well, but she knew enough to know their actions weren't always their fault. But she might have been killed, too.  
  
"I don't know. For someone so damn harmless, he sure seemed to know what he was doing. And he didn't seem to be real worried about any 'family'. Damn it, he pointed that gun right at my head. He could've killed me!"  
  
"I don't think he would have, Molly." Hannibal was again playing with the truth. He honestly didn't know what Face might have done. "He's not a violent man. I think if it had come down to the wire, he would have let you go. I'm sure of it."  
  
"So sticking that gun in my ribs was a bluff?" The anger in Molly's voice hadn't dissipated.  
  
"Yeah. I know it was horrible for you, Molly, but please try to understand. He wouldn't have hurt you, not really."  
  
Again, Molly had to think. She knew what they were trying to do, all right. They didn't want trouble with the police. Well, she could understand that. And there was something about the way they talked about the man that made her think he really wasn't a bad person. Just sick. Well, she really didn't want to mess with the police, either. If she pressed charges, it would mean a trial, publicity. The last thing she wanted. The last thing Joe would want. And it certainly wouldn't make her boss very happy, either.  
  
"Okay, I don't really want to see him in jail. And there are other concerns I have that make me not want to go through all that stuff, either. But what about my husband? He's going to wonder what the hell happened to me. He may have called the police already. And my car - it's wrecked."  
  
The twinkle came back into Hannibal's eyes. "Your car was stolen. You were left stranded out in the middle of nowhere, until you were picked up by another motorist and brought to the gas station. You didn't get a good look at the man because he had a stocking over his head. No one pays attention to car thefts. There won't be any publicity." Hannibal really wanted a cigar. "We'll send you a cashier's check to cover the cost of any repairs to the car, or a replacement if need be. How does that sound?"  
  
Molly thought it made sense. Car thefts around her area were nothing new, and if they were willing to pay for the car...  
  
"Okay. But if you don't come up with the money for the car..." She absolutely glared at him.  
  
Hannibal laughed. He liked this woman. "Don't worry, Molly. You'll have it by the end of the week."


	48. Chapter 48

Maggie and Mama had not yet gone to bed when the men had arrived in the very early morning hours, long before the sun rose. They were all exhausted, mentally and physically. BA had put Face in his room and then Mama sent them all to bed. Explanations could wait until later. Once they had disappeared upstairs, the women went in to Face. Obviously he had been through a very rough time. He was bruised, bleeding, and filthy. So they set to work.  
  
A couple hours later, Mama covered her transformed charge with the light blanket, sent Maggie off to bed and settled herself in a large rocker she had found during the day. With no word from anyone during the day, she had paced the hours away around the house and found this stashed away in a corner. She decided it would be perfect for the vigil she intended to keep over Face. There was no way he would come to harm again while under her care.  
  
She was very worried about Face. He had awakened while they were cleaning him up, but had just stared at the ceiling, never uttering a sound. Shortly before they finished, he had fallen back asleep. She knew, without being told, that whatever had happened had set him back, possibly worse than he had been before. She was afraid that they would not be able to reach him again, that he had pushed himself so far away that he could not be retrieved. Out of habit, born of many hours of worry for her own son, Mama started softly humming the old hymns she had learned as a child. They gave her comfort, even as her mind was a thousand miles away in worry.  
  
At first she didn't notice. Then she felt, rather than saw, eyes on her. Looking at the bed, she saw Face was awake and watching her. Instinctively, she reached over and took his hand, continuing to hum. She felt Face's hand tighten on hers, and he closed his eyes.  
  
She held his hand until the rest of the family awoke hours later.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie and Mama learned the details of the search for Face over breakfast. It had been worse than they had imagined. Maggie had not even gotten very upset over her rear window.  
  
Mama sat quietly for some time, deep in thought. Things had changed for Face now. She knew that learning of Stockwell's death had had an affect on him that was not good. She needed to talk to Murdock. When Hannibal drove Maggie home, and BA started repairing the wheelchair, Mama took the pilot aside.  
  
They walked out to the yard, taking in the early morning sunshine. Murdock looked worn out yet, as if sleep had given no real rest. Mama realized what Murdock must be feeling, watching his best friend disappear into that haze that the pilot himself had only recently escaped from. Quietly, she told him what had happened earlier that morning, as she sat with Face.  
  
Murdock took it in solemnly. He didn't think this was some fluke. Face had been raised with religion, and despite his various rebellions against convention, it was still there, deep inside, so his reaction to Mama's hymns didn't really surprise the pilot. What did surprise him was that Face would pull himself out far enough to react at all. He had gone so deep within himself after he found out about Stockwell...  
  
"Mama, we gotta use this. Face, well, I'm afraid that he just doesn't think he has any reason to come back now. Everything's done, I guess you'd say. The only thing keeping him going for so long was the idea of getting rid of Stockwell. He only shut down when he thought he couldn't get at him. After the shooting, he obviously thought he still had a job to finish and that brought him back again. Now, he has no reason at all. I don't know if we can give him that, but maybe we can open the door for him.  
  
"I think we're going to change our tactics. No more talking about what happened, or that we still want him back. No, from now on we're gonna concentrate on everything he can have if he comes back. The little things that make life worth living. Remember how he finally came back and stayed with me? I wasn't trying to persuade him, to force him. I just gave him something he missed. That's what we all gotta do now. Give him the things he wants back. And," he smiled broadly at Mama, "I think I'll give Father Magill a call. This should be right up his alley. What do you think, Mama?"  
  
"I think you're a very smart man, Murdock." And she gave him a Mama hug.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock's new plan included getting Face back on his feet, literally. He told BA he wanted him to start working with Face on rebuilding his muscles. Obviously he wasn't as disabled as they had imagined. BA thought about it for a while and decided he would check with Maggie, and start the next day, giving Face one more day to recuperate from his 'travels'.  
  
In the meantime, Murdock and Hannibal scoured the house and old barn, finally finding a chaise lounge stuck away in storage. Mama put them to work repainting the frame and getting new cushions for it. That afternoon it was in place and ready, resting in the sunniest spot in the meadow. Face would be getting a lot of fresh air from now on.  
  
Murdock also made the call to Father Magill. It wasn't nearly as difficult as Murdock had thought. All he had to tell the Father was that Face was in trouble and needed him. The next words Murdock heard were asking directions to the farm.  
  
*****  
  
BA had taken Face out to the chaise lounge before going back to working on the wheelchair. He had also called Maggie, who promised to check with a physical therapist on what exercises Face could 'do'. This was good. This was what BA needed. Something that at least looked like a new beginning.  
  
Hannibal was waiting for Father Magill. He had elected to be the one to give the Father all the details. He was apprehensive about this part of Murdock's new plan, knowing that Face would never want the priest to know what had happened. But he, like Murdock, knew that Father Magill was the person who could help Face in an area that was an integral part of his life, and in which the rest felt totally inadequate.  
  
Murdock and Mama were sitting with Face. At first they just let him sleep, knowing he desperately needed it. Eventually Mama started humming softly once more, more to see if anything would happen than anything. Nothing. She continued humming for some time, but Face showed no sign of acknowledging her. After a while she gave up, disappointed, and the quiet sounds of the meadow were all that were heard.  
  
Father Magill arrived mid-afternoon. Hannibal greeted him warmly, but the priest was all business. He wanted to see Face immediately, but Hannibal had to prepare him. He had a long story to tell, and it wasn't going to be easy. He thought he knew the priest well enough to know that nothing he said would change his dedication to his former charge, but he had lived long enough to know that there was no such thing as a certainty.  
  
Father Magill listened without saying one word. At the point where Hannibal told of the first murder, he closed his eyes and kept them closed for the rest of the recitation. When Hannibal finally concluded, the priest was still for many minutes. He then crossed himself, and Hannibal realized he had been praying.  
  
"Please take me to Templeton."  
  
They walked slowly around the house and back into the meadow where Mama and Murdock were holding vigil. Both looked nervously at the priest, who ignored them and strode directly to Face. Sitting beside him, he took Face's hand with both of his.  
  
"Hello, Templeton."  
  
It took maybe two seconds. Face's eyes flew open.  
  
"It's all right, my boy. I believe we have much to talk about."  
  
Hannibal, Murdock and Mama quietly left them.  
  
*****  
  
Face knew he wasn't in his room any more. It was brighter, much brighter. And he thought there was a breeze, too. Outside. Murdock. Another one who wouldn't give up. When would they realize it was no use? He had to pay. Accept it, guys. There's always a price.  
  
He'd almost caved in earlier. He'd heard the hymns, off in the distance. He thought at first he'd finally made it all the way. Then he realized it would hardly be hymns he'd be hearing. They got louder, clearer. He was drawn to them, despite himself. He really didn't want this darkness. He wanted to come back, he wanted to be with the team again, like nothing had happened. Of course, it didn't matter what he wanted. He was supposed to stay. But that music kept pulling him out. He recognized some. Others he didn't know but they meant the same thing. He'd opened his eyes finally and saw Mama. Felt her take his hand. He'd grabbed that hand. Hold on to me. Don't let go. Please...  
  
But in the end, he let go. He had to. It wasn't for him. His visions reminded him of that. And now Murdock, taunting him once again with the things he couldn't have. Don't you see, you're just making it harder, pal? Please. Stop. I have to do this.  
  
And then he'd heard that voice.  
  
Oh, God, no. No, they didn't.  
  
He opened his eyes. Saw him. Sweet Jesus, why?  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and BA had taken off in Maggie's car - or what was left of it - to pick up the van. Mama was cleaning house and baking - anything to keep herself occupied. Murdock sat in the sun room, watching Father Magill and Face.  
  
Frankly, he was not all that happy now that Father Magill had arrived. After he saw the dismay in Face's eyes, he wished he had thought it over a bit more. He had not expected that strong a reaction. Father Magill had rather alarmed Murdock himself. In all other encounters, he had seemed firm but affable, almost indulgent of Face and the team. Yet today he had been all business - all Church business. And for the first time, Murdock was thinking that Face and his religion could be more entwined than he had ever thought. It added another 'complication' to things.  
  
He didn't know all that much about Catholic teachings, but he thought there were two kinds of sins. Mortal sins he knew about. If Face thought he had committed a mortal sin, and if Father Magill thought so, too, well, they might as well say good-bye to Face. He couldn't believe that God would judge Face so harshly for saving his friends. He hoped Father Magill felt that way. He suddenly realized that there was a lot more riding on this visit than anyone might have imagined.  
  
He carefully watched the two figures in the meadow.


	49. Chapter 49

Face tried to retreat. It wouldn't come for him. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want the priest here. Why had they brought him? Why? What had they told him? God, please, they didn't tell him everything, did they? They couldn't. He didn't want him to know.  
  
He heard his voice. He wouldn't listen. He didn't want to hear. The disappointment, the anger, the shame. He drowned it out. He wouldn't listen.  
  
What were they thinking? What did they want to do to him? Destroy him, destroy even that last little bit of him that felt like a human being? To bring Father Magill and tell him...how could they do that? Why?  
  
The voice was going on and on. Stop it. Please. Father, please. Go away. I know. I know what you think. You don't have to tell me. Please just go away.  
  
He had to get away. He had to. He couldn't hear this. He couldn't listen. He'd go away. Help me.  
  
Go now. Now.  
  
Father Magill had not understood exactly what Hannibal had meant when he said Templeton would 'go away'. Until he watched it happen. The eyes suddenly went dull and unfocused. What little emotion had been on his face sank into a blank mask. The body relaxed and stilled. There was no response at all to anything more the priest said. Templeton had, indeed, 'gone away'.  
  
He sat for a few moments longer, saying nothing, still holding the cold hands. He offered a prayer, silently. Crossing himself, he gave the hands a last light squeeze and moved toward the house. Murdock met him at the door of the sun room, Templeton's room. They sat, watching as Mama made her way out to Face, taking the priest's place. Face had not been left alone for more than a few moments since they had brought him back.  
  
Murdock looked at Father Magill expectantly.  
  
"There are some complications, I'm afraid."  
  
Murdock shrank inside. He knew it. He just knew it.  
  
"As Templeton's priest, there's a lot I can do for him. With him. Unfortunately, I'm more than just his priest. I'm also his friend. And it was obvious to me that he did not want me here. Not as his friend. He seemed very distressed when he realized I was here. It's going to be very difficult for me to get past that, so that I can help him spiritually."  
  
"Uh, well, can't you just be his friend for now? I mean..."  
  
"No, Murdock. The most important reason for my being here is as his priest. I don't know if you fully understand this, but we are talking about Templeton's immortal soul. This is very serious. You may not believe this, but I do. Templeton does. There is nothing more important."  
  
Well, there it was. That part of Face that the team had only caught glimpses of, that they knew so little of, that part of Face that scared Murdock. He didn't know why; maybe because he could do nothing about it, maybe because he didn't understand a lot about it, maybe because Face held it so solidly within himself. You couldn't grow up with those beliefs so totally encompassing you and let them go easily. Despite all the scams, all the missions, there was always that point beyond which Face would not go. He never made a big deal of it, never spoke of it, may not have even been aware of it himself. The team had just known it was there. Until Stockwell. And now Murdock knew that it was a big part of what had happened after. And the team would have to hand that all over to this priest, and hope that what he did would help and not hurt. And that scared Murdock. That had not been his intent when he had called him.  
  
He cleared his throat, which had become tight. "We'll help you all we can, Father."  
  
"And I will help you, Murdock. But that brings up another complication, I'm afraid. I know that you will want to know of any significant changes or revelations that might occur between Templeton and me. But I'm going to have to, well, withhold a lot. I can't break confidences, even though it might help in his recovery. Not only because I am prohibited from doing so by the Church, but because, as his friend, he may not want some disclosures discussed with others. You understand, don't you, Murdock?"  
  
Unhappily, Murdock did understand. "Sure, Father. We can work with that. I had kinda thought of a way to get through to him, but I'm not sure if it will work."  
  
"Well, let's hear it then. We have to do whatever we can to bring him back whole."  
  
*****  
  
That damn sweet poison again. Mama was trying to push it into his mouth. No. Not any more. It made Face come back when he didn't want him to. It made him weak. No more. They had tricked him once. They'd brought the priest. They'd told the priest. They had told him and now he despised Face. He would not take any more of their damn poison. Face would not come out for them any more. He would push Face so far into himself they would never find him again. So far in he wouldn't even find himself.  
  
"C'mon, baby, take this for me, okay?"  
  
No way. Forget it.  
  
He felt the spoon being taken away. The picture cleared slightly. He could see discouragement on the woman's face.  
  
You don't control me any more.  
  
She was talking to him again. Talk, talk, talk. Were you in on it, too? I'll bet you were. You and Murdock. Gruesome twosome. Always planning. Planned it all out, didn't you? Build him up, shoot him down. Make him pay. Your way. Well, now it's my way, lady. All mine. You've done all you're going to. All of you.  
  
Go to hell, lady. I'll meet you there.  
  
*****  
  
When BA and Hannibal returned with the van, Mama and Murdock were waiting in the living room and one look at the pair told Hannibal neither were happy. There was no sign of Father Magill. Face was in his repaired wheelchair, seated in front of the living room window.  
  
"Okay, now what?"  
  
Murdock nodded at Mama.  
  
"Face won't take his medication and he won't eat and he won't drink."  
  
"What do you mean, he won't? I didn't think he had a choice with you giving it to him."  
  
"He will not open his mouth. Before I could at least get it down him but it's like he's refusin to now."  
  
Shit.  
  
Hannibal looked at Murdock. "Tell me this had nothing to do with Father Magill coming out here."  
  
Murdock's silence told him all he didn't want to know.  
  
"Okay, what happened?"  
  
Reluctantly, Murdock told him what Father Magill had said.  
  
"He's kinda got his own agenda, Hannibal. And now I guess Face does, too. I'm sorry, Colonel. I thought it would be a good idea."  
  
"It was a good idea, Murdock. I think Father Magill is right. Maybe we don't see things that way, but that's how Face was raised and you don't just forget about it. We can't just ignore it. But we have to get him back on track or nobody's going to win."  
  
Hannibal looked over at Face. "Bring me his dinner. And his medications."  
  
"Uh, what are you gonna do, Hannibal?"  
  
"I'm going to let Face know that he's not totally in command here."  
  
"You sure that's a good idea? I mean..."  
  
"Murdock, I'm all for giving Face time to heal. I'm all for helping him do that. You know that. But sometimes we have to do what's best for someone despite themselves. And I'm not going to let him starve himself to death. The time to end that notion is now. Before it goes any further."  
  
The dinner was brought out. Hannibal had the others leave - he may have sounded harsh but he wasn't going to make this a spectacle.  
  
"Face, we're going to eat dinner now. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It's up to you."  
  
Hannibal had watched Mama do this many times. He did exactly what she had done. Nothing. The only response Hannibal got was a clenched jaw. There was no change of expression, no frown - it was almost like an automatic response. Hannibal sighed.  
  
"Okay, Lieutenant, if that's the way it's got to be..." and he pinched Face's nose shut.  
  
Face jerked back, but Hannibal would not let go. Face had no choice now; he had to breathe. He opened his mouth to get air and Hannibal shoved the first spoonful in. Gasping and choking, Face swallowed.  
  
"Okay, Face, now this is how it's going to be. You will eat. You will drink. Or you're going to get the same treatment until you do."  
  
The hell with you, Colonel.  
  
Hannibal was shocked at how quickly those eyes could focus. He suddenly found himself looking at two blue orbs that sparked with anger - no, fury. 'God, not again.'  
  
"Face, don't even think about it. Look, I know you're upset because of Father Magill. But we thought he could help you, Face. He can, if you let him."  
  
"You told him."  
  
"Yes, I did, Face. He needed to know so he could help you."  
  
"You shouldn't have."  
  
"Why, Face?"  
  
No reply.  
  
"You thought he'd stop loving you if he knew."  
  
Face started trembling.  
  
"Face, Father Magill could no more stop loving you than we could. You know that."  
  
What? He searched Hannibal's eyes for signs of the lie. He couldn't find it. It wasn't there.  
  
"Face, you saved our lives. You sacrificed yourself, everything to keep Stockwell from blowing us away. How could we stop loving you for that?"  
  
"But, I..." This was too much. Too much. "I made you kill him. I made you like me. How..." His mind was swirling in circles. He was swirling. He couldn't think.  
  
"I killed him because I had to, Face. That was his choice, his decision, not mine, not yours. So, yeah, I am like you. I did what I had to do."  
  
It's a trick, bud. They're full of them. They made the priest hate you.  
  
But he said...  
  
Bull. Don't listen to him. He's been lying to you all along.  
  
No, no, Hannibal doesn't lie to me...he doesn't lie...  
  
He killed Stockwell and didn't tell you. He made you think you failed.  
  
But I did fail. And Hannibal had to clean up the mess after...  
  
"Face! Don't leave me now, Face. Don't run away. Please!"  
  
"I'm tired..."  
  
"Okay. You can sleep. Just don't go away, okay? Please."  
  
Face looked at Hannibal. Pleading. "I don't know if I can. I'm supposed to go."  
  
"Supposed to? Why, Face?"  
  
"I have to pay."  
  
"Not like this, Face. Please, let Father Magill help you. He knows what to do. Will you do that, Face? Will you talk to Father Magill?"  
  
Father Magill hates you, bud. They all do. Even you do.  
  
Hannibal shook his head. He'd lost the battle. But he wasn't about to lose the war. No way.


	50. Chapter 50

"Patience is a virtue."  
  
Father Magill smiled encouragingly at Hannibal. He had just finished another unproductive session with Templeton, and the colonel's face showed he had hoped something might have happened this time.  
  
"He still resists me. It's unfortunate. I have tried to reassure him but, of course, he's not hearing it. It's terribly frustrating, I know, but eventually what needs to happen will happen. I pray for it every day."  
  
"But will it happen before you have to leave, Father? Because if it doesn't happen with you, it won't."  
  
"I have some leeway with my time, Colonel. That's how it is when you're as close to retirement as I am. My superiors tend to see my usefulness as limited, and they like to see me 'out of the way' so the newer men can practice." He grinned at Hannibal. "So you may have me longer than you would really like."  
  
Hannibal grinned back. "I like you, Father. I like having you here. I know he doesn't show it, but I think it's good for Face - Templeton - having you here. As for patience, well, we've been dealing with this whole mess for almost a year now. It almost seems like we never had a life before this. But I like to think we keep getting a little closer to bringing him back. And I keep reminding myself why this all happened. If Face could go through all this for us, then we can be patient for him."  
  
"Some of the others, well, I think I make them uncomfortable."  
  
"Only because of the Church, Father. They don't understand all the ceremonies, the 'mysticism' of it. It was different when Face was just visiting you. Having you right here all the time - well, they'll learn."  
  
"And you, Colonel?"  
  
"I respect all religions, Father. I'm in awe of none of them."  
  
"Hmm." Father Magill smiled, and the two men continued to walk in companionable silence.  
  
*****  
  
The priest kept coming back. Every now and then, he would almost let him see. But he would draw back again. He had to think about it more. He was trying to remember what Hannibal had said. Digesting it. Could he have lied? Or was it true? If it was a lie, why did the priest keep returning? If it was true, Face needed to come out and talk to him. But it was hard.  
  
That bothered him. Because it was getting harder and harder to come back. He never quite made it back all the way any more. Even when he wanted to. Which he did, sometimes. Especially when they went to that place. The meadow. He would sit in the sun and feel warm. The only time he felt warm any more. And he could smell the spring flowers now. But sounds and sights remained fuzzy, out of focus. Like it was too much for his mind to deal with those senses.  
  
And then he would go away. He didn't want to, when he was out there. But he didn't have the control over it any more. Sometimes he could, sometimes he couldn't. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to work. He'd thought he could just make himself go away completely and be done with it. But that hadn't happened. And now...now he found himself wondering if he really should. Hannibal had said that wasn't the way. What if he were right? What if Hannibal was right but it was too late? What if he'd already gone too far to come all the way back again?  
  
Well, nobody ever said life was fair, did they? Maybe it was just time...  
  
*****  
  
Mama was worried. So was Maggie. Face was not gaining weight any more; in fact, he was losing. Not a lot, but steadily over the last month. His appetite was down. He wasn't refusing food. He just lost weight. His skin was getting dry, too. And cold. His body always felt cool, sometimes actually cold, to the touch. Coupling that with the fact that he never came out of his 'trance' any more, they worried. Very much.  
  
"You think he's what?!" Hannibal was incredulous.  
  
"I think he's killing himself."  
  
"That's crazy." Period.  
  
"No, I don't think it is, John. I think he's made the decision. I think he made it some time ago. Mentally, he's shut himself down almost completely. I think he's doing the same thing to his body. Willing himself to die. Or at least not caring to live."  
  
"Can we stop it? Medications?"  
  
"There are things I can do. But if we can't get through to him and make him want to live, he's going to die. I think he's been 'working' on this for some time - the symptoms he's showing now - the reasons for them don't happen overnight. John, we don't have a lot of time."  
  
"Okay. I'll talk to Father Magill and the rest. We'll have to start pushing now. He's not going to quit after all this."  
  
*****  
  
God, the priest was back again. He could still make out the voice, though faint. He was so tired. He wanted to make it quiet. All quiet. Then he could rest. When they talked to him, he couldn't rest. Please be quiet.  
  
He'd accepted things now. There had been a time when he thought he should try it Hannibal's way. But he couldn't pull up the energy. He'd tried. It just wasn't there. So he'd resigned himself. It was almost over. If they would just leave him alone now.  
  
Murdock? Murdock was there now. Murdock was hard to resist. Really hard. Always had been. Even in the VA. So many times he'd thought he should ignore Billy, or refuse to go along with all those people Murdock liked to be, but he couldn't. He had to play along. He had to follow Murdock. He couldn't follow now, though. No matter how hard Murdock pulled him. He didn't have the strength. He didn't have the time.  
  
He came back slowly. That was happening a lot more. He came and went without much control of it. No idea how long this time. A minute? An hour? A month? Who knew? Still those voices around him. Seemed like everybody was here now. A jumble of voices. Hard to tell who was who. They were louder. Were they shouting at him? Each other? Why? Maybe that's why he came back this time, they were so loud. Angry.  
  
Quiet. Sudden quiet. What was going on now? He couldn't hear a thing. No, wait, there was something. So faint. But clear. Crystal clear. How could that be? Nothing had been clear like that for so long...  
  
"Cleanse me of sin with hyssop, Lord, that I may be purified; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow, Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost."  
  
What was that? Wait. He knew that...  
  
"By this holy unction and his own most gracious mercy, may the Lord pardon you whatever sin you have committed by sight."  
  
Something wet on his eyelids...  
  
"By this holy unction and his own most gracious mercy, may the Lord pardon you whatever sin you have committed by taste and speech."  
  
...on his lips...  
  
"...the prayer of faith shall save the sick man, and the Lord shall raise him up: and if he be in sins they shall be forgiven him..."  
  
...fading in and out now...  
  
"...we implore Thee, our Redeemer, to cure by the grace of the Holy Spirit the ailments of this sick person and heal his wounds, forgive his sins, drive from him all pains of mind and body..."  
  
So this was it. Last rites. It was truly almost over then. Sins forgiven. Finally. They were letting him go. He could go home now. He could rest. It was over...  
  
*****  
  
"NO!"  
  
Murdock slammed into the sun room, nearly knocking Father Magill down. He rushed to the bed, grabbing Face in his arms, pulling him close, glaring at the group gathered around him.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Get out! He's not going to die! Get out!"  
  
"Murdock, calm down. This has to be done for Face. He's too close..."  
  
"NO! You're letting him die. You can't do that! You can't!"  
  
"Captain, stand down! We're not letting him die! It's just a precaution. He needs this. He..."  
  
"The hell he does. He needs us! He needs us telling him not to go, not to quit." He turned his back on the others, grabbed his friend's face, practically nose to nose with him. "Don't you quit, Faceman! Don't you go! You can't! You come back, do you hear me? You come back to me, right now! Don't you dare leave me! Come back! Now!..."  
  
*****  
  
The quiet, clear voice stopped. It was replaced by a loud, searing noise. It was too loud. It hurt. Stop it! Stop! Murdock - it was Murdock. What was he saying? It's too loud. He couldn't make sense of it. Quit? No, don't quit. Don't quit. Murdock didn't want him to go. But I need to. I want to, Murdock. Please... please...I don't want to come back...I don't...  
  
No...Murdock. He could never fight Murdock. He was too strong. There was too much of him...he trudged through the fog...I'm too tired, please...no, Murdock was pushing him through...go back...no...let me go...  
  
No control now. It was all Murdock's. He could feel him. Holding on. Tight. Still yelling. He could feel his breath on his face. He could see him now. Fuzzy. So fuzzy but there. The others, too. Their voices, loud. Hands on him. Murdock. Let go. No, no, don't let go. Don't. Oh God I don't know...please stop...come back...Murdock...  
  
Silence. Finally. They were all there. They were crying. How odd. Crying over him? They were still fuzzy, but not like before. With a little effort, he could clear them up. There. Better. Better? Yeah. He was back. All the way back. He never could fight Murdock. He didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't know how long he could stay. As long as Murdock wanted him, he guessed.  
  
Maybe it would be okay now. Maybe...


	51. Chapter 51

PART FOUR  
  
Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile his friends are everything. - Warren G. Harding  
  
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE  
  
It felt strange to him. Sitting out here in the meadow, taking in everything in sight. It was like he'd been reborn. Almost. The images still came. Too often. And it was hard, sometimes, not to drift away. Especially when Father Magill was around. He still had to deal with...things. But they were letting him set the pace. Mostly.  
  
Murdock leaned over, looking him in the eye. It's okay, I'm still here. Just day dreaming. He gave the pilot a reassuring smile. It felt strange, smiling. Showing any emotion felt strange. Hell, being alive felt strange. He hadn't felt anything for months. Like he'd been asleep. Asleep and having a nightmare.  
  
Damn. They were coming again. He closed his eyes, shook his head. They kept coming. He felt himself trembling, fear coming over him in a huge landslide of blood and brain and...he felt Murdock's hands on his shoulders. Okay. Concentrate on that. Think about Murdock. His friend. Beat them back. All the way...  
  
Okay. They were gone. He was still here. He hadn't slipped away. Okay. Relax. Nobody said it would be easy. One thing at a time. Maybe once he actually talked with Father Magill. Confession. He needed that. He'd been putting it off. He was afraid of it, frankly. Not of confession. Of talking about those things. He wasn't sure he was ready for it. He knew he wasn't. He didn't know if he ever would be.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was watching from the kitchen window. Murdock was Face's constant companion, and it worried him a bit. He could understand Murdock's concerns - they were all afraid Face would fall back again. But it was almost obsessive with the pilot. He hadn't gotten over last week. He still thought they had all given up on Face. Which they hadn't. Not really. But Father Magill wanted to make sure Face was 'taken care of', as he put it. Hannibal, though not considering himself religious, didn't think he had the right to deny Face that. Hedging bets, if nothing else. Eventually Murdock would understand that. In the meantime, Hannibal was keeping an eye on both of them.  
  
Face still didn't talk much at all and it was obvious that he was having flashbacks. Physically he had a long way to go. They'd come so close to losing him...Maggie was worried about the long term effects of that. But he was eating and trying to do more things for himself. Not very successfully; he was still too weak. But more and more, the old Face was starting to peek through. No one had any illusions about a miraculous recovery. Except maybe the priest.  
  
They had gone back to Plan B - Murdock's idea of just giving Face the pleasant things in life for a while. Which was okay with Hannibal. The kid needed it. He knew he'd have to deal with all those other things eventually, especially with Father Magill. But for now, it was time to just enjoy the here and now. For all of them.  
  
*****  
  
Face heard Mama calling them for lunch. He didn't want to go inside. It was too beautiful out here. But Murdock was already releasing the brakes on the wheelchair, getting ready to go in. It was kind of a rough path back to the house, but they'd come this way so often it was getting smoother all the time. As they got closer to the house, Face started tensing up. Meals were embarrassing for him. He no longer let Mama feed him but he wasn't exactly neat about doing it himself. Not only was he still trying to learn how to use the left hand; it also shook badly. Everyone pretended to ignore the mess. He couldn't. Today, for some reason, it was worse than usual. More food ended up on the table and floor than in his mouth. Finally he gave up, pretending he'd had enough. He didn't want to cause a scene.  
  
He still felt nervous around the guys. They had told him over and over again, long ago, that they didn't blame him for what he'd done. He didn't quite believe them. Not yet. He tried to keep his paranoia in check, though. He couldn't get well giving in to that stuff. And he wanted to get well now. He didn't want to go back inside himself. He wasn't sure what he did want to do but he didn't want to go there again. He wasn't sure what his future held. He didn't know if he would be on the team, or 'retired'. Where would he go if that happened? What would he do? It gave him a headache thinking of the future, so he didn't. He just took each day as it came. Days like today, that was more than enough.  
  
*****  
  
Later in the afternoon, Father Magill arrived for his daily visit. He heard him greeting Mama warmly, their voices getting closer to his room. He could feel his body tensing. He had flashes of the images but they weren't coming on full force. Yet. He could be around the rest of them and not feel this way. Father Magill was different. It wasn't that the priest was more important to him. That his opinion of Face more vital. But Father Magill represented one thing and one thing only. And he was trying to protect himself from that.  
  
"Hello, Templeton. How are you doing today?"  
  
He didn't really expect an answer. Sometimes Face could get the words out just fine; sometimes not. He didn't know why that happened, either. Some days his brain worked with his body, some days it didn't. Today it wasn't. He nodded. That would have to do for a greeting.  
  
"It's a beautiful day out. Shall we go to the meadow, or maybe a walk around the grounds?"  
  
Trying to get a spoken response. He could be sneaky that way. Face smiled. He had learned a lot of his conning ways from this stately gentleman. They couldn't fool each other for one minute.  
  
"Okay, okay, Templeton, I give up. Let's take the walk."  
  
They 'walked' out to the barn first. BA was repairing it for Hannibal. The colonel had been talking about buying the place; he liked being close to Maggie and yet having enough room for the whole team to get together comfortably. Face didn't know that Hannibal had his lieutenant in mind as a long-term housemate. BA had just started working on it, and had the van parked close by with his tools inside. He saw the pair come up and stepped over to talk. Which was unusual for BA. But Face had noticed he made a special effort to talk with Father Magill. Whether it was for Face or because he genuinely liked the man, he didn't know.  
  
BA was talking about what he'd been doing with the barn, lots of carpenter lingo that Face had no understanding of whatever. He doubted Father Magill knew any better, but the priest nodded his head wisely and seemed to know exactly what questions to ask. As he talked, BA was looking for something in the van and kept pulling this and that out, setting the various tools on the ground. A couple things, apparently more delicate instruments, he laid in Face's lap. He did that a lot, just handing Face things to hang on to, just like he would have months ago. Made Face feel almost normal.  
  
"What's that doin in here? I thought I cleared them all out," BA was mumbling to himself. Without thinking, he turned and laid the 9mm casually in Face's lap.  
  
There you go, bud.  
  
BA. Take it away.  
  
C'mon, bud. Pick it up. Just once. Just feel it.  
  
No. BA...  
  
BA ain't gonna help you, bud. He wants you to take it.  
  
No.  
  
Sure he does. Why d'ya think he gave it to you? Pick it up.  
  
No.  
  
Yeah. Take it, bud. Finger on the trigger. Remember how that feels? Huh?  
  
Face took a deep breath, closed his eyes. He shoved it with all his strength. The gun went flying to the ground.  
  
"What the...?" BA whipped around as the gun landed at his side. He stared at it, stared at Face, who was white and trembling. "Aw, man, I'm sorry, Face, I..."  
  
They were back. They were all over. He couldn't see BA, he couldn't see Father Magill, all he could see were bloody explosions, men running after him, bullets in slow motion blurring past his head...  
  
"Face! C'mon, man, don't go there! Face!"  
  
"Templeton! Stay with us! Please!"  
  
Fight it. Fight it. Don't go back there. Push them away. Don't go...  
  
Worthless, bud. Worthless. Go on back. You're no good in the real world. You're no good in the team's world. Go on back, where you belong.  
  
No. I won't go there.  
  
He pushed harder. Find BA. Find him. See him. Okay. Now Father. Look for him. Find him. There. Blood running off them, but they were there. Okay. Clear. Okay.  
  
He was back. He was safe. Safe...  
  
*****  
  
"We almost lost him, Hannibal, and it's my fault. I didn't even think about it..."  
  
"BA, just calm down. We didn't lose him. He fought it. Okay? He fought it. He stayed with us. That's good. We know he wants to get better now. We know he can fight it."  
  
Father Magill and BA had taken Face back to the house, talking to him constantly, helping him fight to stay 'out'. This was the worst any of them had seen since he'd almost died. They'd watched him lose focus, watched as he almost lost it completely. Worst of all, they'd seen the pleading in his eyes as he struggled to stay with them. Begging for their help. Neither of them had known what to do, other than talk to him. They weren't even sure he was hearing them. Even after they knew it was over, there was a fear in Face's eyes. Something else had happened, something that frightened him still. But he wouldn't, or couldn't, tell them what it was.  
  
Murdock was livid. He had made it a point to leave Face alone with Father Magill and this is what happened. Not that it was the priest's fault, exactly. It was BA, putting that gun in Face's lap. What the hell was he thinking?! He didn't care that BA felt terrible. He didn't care that Hannibal wanted him to calm down and be quiet. He was soooo angry at all of them!  
  
"Murdock, enough! You're not helping Face this way. He needs quiet now, okay?" Hannibal was having a really hard time controlling his own anger at the pilot. Damn, he had to get this crew under control or they'd be right back where they had been after Stockwell's. "Look, Murdock, BA didn't do anything wrong here. He was doing what we've all been trying to do, treat Face 'normally'. It didn't work out the best but we learned a few things. So now it's over. Understood? Over."  
  
Murdock was going to reply but Mama stepped into the fray.  
  
"We're all upset about it, Murdock. But staying upset is not going to change anything. Hannibal's right. Face needs quiet right now. A chance to settle down. So we're all going to do just that." She gave him one of those looks - 'if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy'. And right now, she wasn't happy.  
  
"Now, you all be quiet in here. I got things to do and I can't be runnin out here to referee all the time." With that command, she stalked out.  
  
An uncomfortable silence ensued, Murdock glaring at BA, who was staring at the floor. Hannibal glared at Murdock, warning him silently that he was at the end of his rope.  
  
Mama stepped into the sun room, where Father Magill was sitting next to Face, holding his hands, still talking softly. No, not talking. He was praying. Mama stopped respectfully. Didn't matter what the trappins, you didn't interrupt anybody's prayers.  
  
A few moments later he straightened, making the sign of the cross. Face made a movement as if he were trying to do the same. That was a good sign. He must have been listening, at least. The Father noticed Mama standing in the doorway and smiled at her. He murmured something to Face, who nodded, and he moved to the door.  
  
"I think he's calmed down now, but he's worn out. I'll be taking my leave. I told him I'd come back in the morning."  
  
"Okay, Father. Thank you. I'll take it from here." They smiled at each other. Their initial wariness of each other had disappeared. They both knew what was important.  
  
After Father Magill had gone, Mama got Face onto the bed, and, getting a warm washcloth, proceeded to wipe his face, making it more a massage than a washing. Slowly his eyes closed, and within a few minutes he was asleep. She stayed a little while longer, saying a few prayers of her own.


	52. Chapter 52

He was not supposed to be there. He was gone. He was dead. He had died instead of Face. He was never supposed to come back to taunt him again. And yet he had. He had. And now Face had to deal with him. Again.  
  
He needed Hannibal. He didn't know why. But without Hannibal, he wouldn't make it. He needed his colonel now. Before he came back.  
  
It was pitch dark out. Everyone was in bed. He'd have to wake Hannibal. He hated to but he couldn't wait. He could feel him, waiting. Waiting for the images to come back so he could, too. Maybe he was the one who sent them. He knew he could get at Face that way. Make him weak, so he could take over again. That's why he wanted Face to hide inside again. So he could come out.  
  
"Hannibal."  
  
His voice was a mere whisper. He'd have to do better than that.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
Not much better. He heard someone stirring in his room. One of them slept in his room each night. It didn't matter. Not tonight.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
"Hey, Face, it's me. What's the matter?" Murdock. He didn't want Murdock. Not now.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
"Okay, okay, just a second, Face, okay? I'll go get him. Just calm down, okay?"  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
He heard Murdock stumbling through the house, up the stairs. Quiet again. Where was he? Where was Hannibal? Why didn't he come? He needed him now. Now. He could feel the panic coming. Please hurry. He was coming. The other one. He could feel it. He was building strength inside. Hurry, hurry.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was being roughly shaken. He opened his eyes part way, seeing Murdock leaning over him. He immediately came wide awake.  
  
"What's the matter? Face?"  
  
"He wants you, Colonel. I don't know why but he wants you right away."  
  
Hannibal was getting out of bed. "Nightmare?"  
  
"I don't think so. I don't know. I woke up and he was calling you. He just keeps calling you."  
  
They rushed downstairs. BA's door was opening as they passed; Mama was already in the hallway.  
  
"Do you need help?"  
  
"Not yet." Hannibal didn't stop to explain. He had to hurry. He didn't know why, he just knew he needed to get down to Face as quickly as possible.  
  
He flipped the light switch on as he came in to the sun room. Face was laying curled up in the corner of the bed, practically cowering. He was white as a sheet, sweating, trembling. Something had frightened him, badly.  
  
"Face, it's Hannibal. What's going on, kid?"  
  
"He's come back, Hannibal."  
  
"Who, Face? Who's come back?"  
  
"Him."  
  
Damn. Who's 'him', for crying out loud? Hannibal had to think fast. Who would Face be so terrified of? Who would come back? Stockwell? No way. Unless Face was completely out of it. Not Carla. Who then? Try another tack.  
  
"How do you know he's back, kid?"  
  
Face gulped, tried to be coherent. "He was at the barn. He told me to take the gun. He wants me to go back inside."  
  
Now Hannibal was really confused. There hadn't been anyone at the barn. And who would want Face to take the gun? Who would...wait.  
  
"Face, is he the one who went after Stockwell? And the truck driver?"  
  
Face looked at Hannibal, relieved. Hannibal knew. "Yeah."  
  
"He's coming back? You can't stop him?"  
  
Face shook his head.  
  
Hannibal didn't know what to do now. Murdock had dealt with this 'guy' before. Hannibal didn't know how he could help.  
  
"What do you want me to do, Face?"  
  
"I...I don't know..." He looked down at the bed, at a loss.  
  
"Okay, Face, don't worry. I'll stay right here. If you feel him coming, you let me know and we'll get rid of him. Together. Okay?" He still had absolutely no idea how to accomplish that but that was beside the point. Right now he had to make Face feel safe.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Hannibal sat on the bed near Face. He nodded to Murdock. He'd take care of things. With one more reluctant look at Face, Murdock left, going to his own room.  
  
Hannibal settled himself more comfortably on the bed. Was Face just having a nightmare, stressed from today, or did he really feel this other guy taking him over? And why now? Hannibal sighed. This could be a long night.  
  
*****  
  
Hey, bud...  
  
His eyes snapped open. "Hannibal..."  
  
"I'm here, Face."  
  
He can't stop me, bud. Nobody can.  
  
"He's here, Hannibal. Now."  
  
"Push him back, Face. You can do it."  
  
Yeah, push me, bud. I'll just come back, stronger.  
  
"I'm trying..."  
  
Try harder. Doesn't matter, y'know. I'll just wait.  
  
"Is he still here, Face?"  
  
"He's too strong, Hannibal. I can't..."  
  
"We can. Okay? I'm here for you, kid." He grabbed Face's hand. "Take what you need, Face. Get rid of him."  
  
How touching. Really. Just heartwarming.  
  
"Get out." Face was pulling all the strength he could. Voice of steel.  
  
For a moment, Hannibal thought Face was talking to him. Then he realized the battle had been joined.  
  
"Can't do it, bud. You're mine."  
  
"No. Leave. Now."  
  
"We got things to do yet, bud. Lots of things. A whole world of things..."  
  
"Not me. I'm done with that."  
  
"Yeah, that's what you told Stockwell. 'I don't kill any more.' But you did anyway, didn't you?"  
  
"That was different. You enjoy it."  
  
"Well, if ya gotta do it, might as well enjoy it, huh, bud? Make the most of life - or death."  
  
"I won't let you kill any more."  
  
"You don't have much choice, bud. Do you?"  
  
"You can't use me any more. I won't let you. You're dead."  
  
"Naaah, I'm not dead. Far from it. Just hiding out for a bit. I can come back whenever I want to. Whenever I need to."  
  
"You'll never need to."  
  
"Oh yeah, I will. Like when Carly decides she's waited long enough for you. Forgot about her, didn't you, chump? She still wants you, bud. You and the rest of your team. She's gonna hang your asses out to dry."  
  
Hannibal decided it was time to move in. He'd listened to that cold, smirking voice long enough. He was about to take part in the most bizarre conversation of his life.  
  
"We don't need your help with Carla."  
  
"Ahhh - another country heard from."  
  
"Face doesn't want you or need you, 'bud', and if he doesn't want you, you can't stay."  
  
"Oh he needs me all right. He just doesn't know it yet. He thinks he does that little confessional thing with the padre and everything's going to be hunky-dory. He doesn't know it ain't that simple. Do you, bud?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Face sounded startled, and Hannibal was beginning to feel like he needed a score card to keep track of who was talking.  
  
"Who the hell do you think they're gonna let stay with the team, huh? Go on the missions? The guy who can plug the target, or the guy who can't even stand to have fuckin' gun in his lap?"  
  
"Face is on this team for as long as he likes. We'd never take you on any missions."  
  
"To which I say a polite BULL, Colonel. You've been taking me on missions ever since you met this poor son of a bitch. You just didn't know it."  
  
"Hannibal?" Murdock was at the door, totally confused.  
  
"Ahhh, the pilot. Getting crowded around here, huh, Colonel? Okay, there's nothing here for me right now anyway. I'll let you 'win' this time, okay? But I'll drop in from time to time, just to say hello."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Face? You okay?" Hannibal wasn't sure who he was talking to now.  
  
"Yeah." Face's voice didn't sound all that sure.  
  
"He's gone, kid. We got rid of him."  
  
"He'll come back, Hannibal. He'll always come back."  
  
"Not always, Face. We'll find a way to get rid of him for good. Just let me think about it, okay?"  
  
"Ok." Face's voice was fading, stress exhausting him.  
  
"Go to sleep, Face. He won't be back tonight."  
  
"Ok."  
  
Hannibal looked up at Murdock. "We'll talk in the morning."  
  
Murdock nodded, and once again went back to his own room. Hannibal lay back, thinking. Murdock shows up, the guy suddenly recedes. Interesting.  
  
Hannibal heard Face mumbling his name. He reached over, pulled the lieutenant to him, felt him grab hold. Sometimes, that's all anyone really needed. Just someone to hang on to. This time he didn't let go.


	53. Chapter 53

He awoke to a bright sun coming in the windows. Hannibal was gone. Father Magill was sitting beside the bed. He was looking out the window, hadn't noticed Face was awake yet. Face looked closely at him. It wasn't often he got to really look at the priest. This man he'd known forever. He was looking old now. Face had never thought about him getting old, dying some day. How many of the lines in that face had he himself put there? And yet the priest had always been there for Face. Always.  
  
Face thought about last night. He wasn't sure if that had been real, or just his mind messing with him again. But as he thought about it, and thought about Father Magill, he made his decision. He would talk to Father Magill today. It was time. Maybe it would help get rid of him, maybe it wouldn't. But he needed that peace. Corny as it may sound, he needed to know he was okay with God again. That he wasn't abandoned. That he could have hope.  
  
"Good morning, Templeton. How are you this morning?"  
  
He surprised the priest. "I'm feeling better, Father." He cleared his throat. "I wonder if we could, uh, talk, uh, sometime today?"  
  
"Are you sure, Templeton?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."  
  
*****  
  
Face had wanted to go to church for this. Father Magill had contacted the local priest and made all the arrangements. He and Face drove there by themselves. Six disapproving eyes had watched them pull out of the driveway. None of Face's team members thought he was ready for dredging up all that garbage. And none of them liked being away from him for it. But confronting two of the most stubborn people in the world beat back their concerns. Face wanted to do this 'right'. And Father Magill backed him up.  
  
The church was large but simple. Father Magill conferred with its priest for a few moments. Then he wheeled Face to a small chapel to the side of the sanctuary. They would have privacy and time.  
  
Face steeled himself. Pushing himself back months ago, to where it first started. To that first meeting with Stockwell. Lying to the team. The planning. The first kill. Moving forward, to the next two. The decision he made about not killing the replacement. Playing God. And then he told about the others. The deaths the rest of the team knew nothing about. The ones he was most ashamed of. The ones he had caused just to save his own skin.  
  
*****  
  
The shots, quick in succession, had taken first Nabeeh, then Dahwar. He'd watched for only a moment, to make sure they didn't move again. Immediately he began crawling slowly backward. There were enough tall stands of grass to cover his exit, at least for the moment. He kept an eye on the encampment below, watching as the first moments of confusion and panic subsided, the rage when it was discovered their leaders were indeed dead, the frantic organizing of the search party. He had only moments before they would be surrounding him. He needed to find cover, a place where his suit would blend in so completely they would walk right by him without seeing him. He had picked the spot on his way in, a spot so close to a clump of desert brush he doubted anyone would get too close to him. They could look around it all they wanted; they wouldn't see him. In just a few more moments he was there, wiggling slightly to embed himself in the ground. He had a small cavity where he could lay his face and still breathe. A rude cloth mask covered his mouth and nose. He was completely concealed in six inches of dirt.  
  
The shooting had been late morning. He felt the sun moving higher in the sky and gradually descending again. He didn't move. He made his body numb, his mind blank except for listening. It was the only way he could tell where his pursuers were. The heat was stifling, and thirst wracked his system. Still he didn't move. To move was to die. He probably would, anyway, but he was damn sure it wouldn't be because of his own mistake.  
  
They had come close. Several times. Each time he held his breath, feeling like his very heartbeat would give away his position. Each time they had moved on. There were so many of them. Had he left any trail? He didn't think so. No, he was sure he hadn't. They would have found him immediately if he had. He was sure.  
  
The sun was starting to set. He would wait until it was completely dark, and then wait some more. Eventually, long after they had given up for the night, he would sidle out of his hiding spot and start the long slow journey away. Hopefully, he would be far away before the sun rose the next morning. He dared not sleep. He had to know where they were. He had to stay alert.  
  
Hours later he was preparing himself to move out. It would be harder than he had thought. A few of the more zealous followers were still out searching, using weak batteried flashlights. Didn't matter. A weak light was just as bad as a high powered one if it landed on him while he was moving. But he couldn't risk staying any longer. Thirst and heat would do the job for them if he tried to stay another day.  
  
It happened when he had thought he was nearly safe. He had only a few yards to go before he reached the top of the hill. Once over that, he could chance running. Just a few yards. Then he heard him. Someone approaching from his left. He lay still. He was too exposed, he knew, but hoped that in the dark he would be unnoticed. He prepared himself anyway. Lay as flat as he could, slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and waited.  
  
The man stepped right on him. Nearly popped his shoulder out of joint. He rolled quickly, coming up immediately, knife in hand, grabbing him around the neck, jerking back. The knife went in, viciously. Again and again and again. He dropped with the body back onto the ground and waited. Nothing. No one running to his victim's aid. No one had seen, no one had heard. He lay for a few more minutes, catching his breath, the man's blood running over him. Then he moved on, shoving the body off to the side.  
  
He got over the hill, crawled for a few more yards, stood in a crouch. Every muscle screamed at him. He felt dizzy, disoriented. He shook out of the suit; it was too bulky now when he needed speed more than cover. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he started a quick, quiet trot down the hill, away from the encampment, away from the pursuers. He had over two miles to run before he'd reach the hidden jeep. He wasn't safe yet...  
  
*****  
  
He was shaken. Father Magill handed him a glass of water. He spilled some just getting it to his mouth. He really didn't want to go on. But he knew he had to. He had to finish...  
  
*****  
  
They found the body too soon. Way too soon. He still had a good mile to go to get to the jeep when he heard the echoes of their shouts bounding off the surrounding hills. He picked up the pace. Faster. Faster. Too late. He knew it. He'd never make it to the jeep. A quarter mile later he heard the roaring of their vehicles. They would know which direction he'd gone just from where the body lay. They were coming and coming fast. His breathing was getting ragged. He started looking for cover in the false dawn. Damn. This is it, kid.  
  
As far as he knew, they had one armored vehicle. The others were beat up jeeps and old trucks, a couple cars. Rag tag army. Good enough to take him out easily. Unless he could set up an ambush of some kind. He kept glancing around him as he ran. Nothing. Brush and a few emaciated trees. God forsaken country.  
  
Half mile to go. If they got within sight now he'd have to abandon the jeep altogether. He'd never make it to it and going close would only alert them to its existence. He had to keep it hidden from them in case he needed it later. If there was a later.  
  
He took a quick glance back. He could see the dust from their vehicles coming over the hill. They wouldn't be far behind. That's when he saw it. A small grotto, formed by several large boulders on the side of a hillock. God is good, he thought.  
  
A fast u-turn, running at full speed. Keeping his fingers crossed there would be no snakes, he practically dove into the cavity. Breathing hard, he readied his rifle and settled into position. His was an almost impenetrable position. But if he didn't catch a break in taking them out, they just had to sit back and wait. He thought for a moment about that, then pulled one bullet from his belt and stuck it in his pocket. Now he was ready.  
  
He could hear them now, getting closer. He tried to determine how many vehicles there were but there was no way. He had two choices - let them go by and hope they kept going, or start taking them out as they passed. It all depended on them.  
  
They were getting closer. The noise level was rising constantly. Roaring engines echoing around him. Dust coming now. Damn. Cutting the visibility to almost nothing. He caught glimpses of vehicles, filled with fanatics. Guns raised, waving in the air. Occupants screaming their anger. Total sensory overload.  
  
And then they were gone. They hadn't seen him on the flat land and assumed he was further ahead of them. He still had a chance. He was less than a half mile from the jeep. At the rate they were going, they would be a couple miles away in minutes. He might just make it before they realized their mistake.  
  
The dust hadn't settled when he pulled himself out of his shelter and started running for the jeep. He pushed his already aching lungs and legs to the limit, breathing in the dust. Listening to the roar of the horde moving further away. Waiting to hear them turning back. Running. Running.  
  
He stumbled up to the jeep, covered in desert camouflage in the scrub. He could barely climb in, lungs unable to suck in enough air. He turned the key, the engine roared to life. He pushed it into gear and tore onto the desert - and found himself heading straight for an old Chevy. A straggler. Six rifle wielding passengers.  
  
He headed straight for them. He knew there was a damn good chance they would not veer away. But they might. If not, he would and swing quickly around behind them. Then he'd have them.  
  
They didn't swerve. Not a foot. Shooting as they careened toward him. Bullets whizzing by his head. Praying if they hit him it would be in the head. He didn't want to face their version of justice. At the very last second, he pulled the jeep to the side, whipping around behind them. The old car couldn't maneuver that easily. Before they could make a quarter turn, the jeep was stopped and Face was firing. He wasn't aiming for the men in particular. He wanted the car stopped, stationery targets. He hit the engine compartment two or three times. Steam poured out, it rolled to a stop, men jumping out and firing. He returned fire, ignoring the barrage coming at him. One by one the men dropped. And then it was quiet.  
  
Face watched the bodies for several minutes. No movement. He didn't think the others would have heard the firing over their own noise but he couldn't be sure. He did a quick once over of himself and the jeep. He had a few ricochet scratches, the jeep more than a few non-mortal wounds. Taking a deep breath, he put the jeep in gear once more and headed for the desert.  
  
For the next three days, Face and his hunters played cat and mouse across the desert. It hadn't taken long for the terrorists to realize they'd overshot their prey. It was easy for them to follow the jeep tracks. Now it became a matter of just trying to stay far enough ahead of them to attempt losing them in the many small villages. It hadn't worked. No one in the villages was willing to tempt fate and lie about having seen the lone jeep. Gas was obtained at gun point; no one would sell to him once the hunt became known. He began avoiding the villages after several residents tried to collect his hide. He got within a mile of the city before finally running out of gas. Luck was with him as he was able to sneak aboard a crowded bus that delivered him to the heart of the city. The terrorists did not follow en masse after finding the jeep. He didn't know how many came after him individually; he was safe in the crowded streets. But until Face finally made contact with Stockwell's people, he moved with eyes in the back of his head. He didn't feel safe until he was flying across the border into Greece.  
  
*****  
  
Father Magill had listened with growing horror to Face's story. It was not just a tabulation of transgressions. Face was reliving everything. It was important that Father Magill not show any emotion, any judgment, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He was appalled at what Templeton had done, and yet he could feel the stress and terror that his protégé must have been experiencing for so many days. And he knew it hadn't ended there. That there was much, much more...  
  
*****  
  
Face stopped. He took another long drink of water. He was shaking inside. The images were fighting to come out full strength. He could feel the other pushing. He was scared now. He had to finish this quickly. He had to get it all out before he was overrun. He had to get straight with God before they took over.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he began recounting his sadistic hunt for Stockwell. He sent up a little prayer on the side - give me the strength to finish.


	54. Chapter 54

"God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."  
  
It was over. Templeton slumped in the wheelchair, emotionally and physically drained. He had hoped, almost believed, that once he'd confessed, the images would disappear forever. That 'he' would be gone from his mind. That he would be free. God had forgiven him. He should be free. There was only one problem.  
  
He hadn't forgiven himself yet.  
  
Father Magill wheeled Templeton out to the car and helped him in. He was feeling almost as drained as the other man looked. Hearing the story from Hannibal had been hard enough. Hearing it in detail from his boy had been devastating. He would be praying a lot over the next few days.  
  
It was a half hour drive from the church back to the farm, through rolling hills and woods. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. Father Magill couldn't help thinking that Someone was smiling down on them, pleased. It gave him great comfort. He hoped Templeton felt it.  
  
They had gone perhaps five miles when they heard a loud pop, and the car veered sharply off the road, nearly sliding down into the ditch. There was a sharp jolt as it abruptly stopped. The engine coughed, sputtered, and died. The two men sat for a moment, dazed. Simultaneously, they looked through the windshield at the three men pointing guns at them.  
  
*****  
  
The phone rang at Maggie's. She was in the middle of an exam and let the answering service pick it up. A few minutes later, it rang again. When it kept ringing, she knew the service was trying to reach her. Must be important. She excused herself and hurried to pick it up.  
  
"I'm sorry to bother you, Doctor, but I really didn't understand the message very well; they said it was important."  
  
"Okay, Sal, no problem. What's the message?"  
  
"It's ''Tell Smith he should go to church more often.' They wouldn't leave a name. Does that make any sense, doctor?"  
  
Maggie tensed. She didn't like it. "No, but thanks, Sal." She hung up and called the farm. Hannibal answered himself. Relaying the message, she waited for an explanation. Instead, she got a dial tone.  
  
*****  
  
He'd shouted for Father Magill without response. Where had they taken him? What had they done to him? The last thing he remembered was seeing one of the goons pulling open his door and the fist slamming into him. When he awoke, he was tied up, blindfolded. His arms pulled behind him, harnessed to the rope around his feet. He was lying on the ground, leaves and grass pressing against his face. He thought there were people around him, but they weren't talking. They weren't moving much either; just enough so he knew they were there. He had no idea how long they'd been here. His arms and legs were numb and felt cold. The ropes were way too tight. That was deliberate, he knew.  
  
Perfume. Suddenly he smelled perfume. He forced himself to sit up. Carla. He'd forgotten about her. Stupid, Peck. He should have known she wouldn't just walk away. But it had been so long since the attack on the farm. She seemed to like that, waiting and waiting between hits, making them complacent and then hitting them again. Sadistic.  
  
She had a great teacher.  
  
"Well, well, nice to see you again, Lieutenant. Hope you've been uncomfortable during your stay with us."  
  
"Funny, Carla. Your sense of humor is exceeded only by your sense of fashion. That perfume's just a bit old, you know - I detect a faint hint of alcohol. Really should pay more attention to the shelf life."  
  
He was rewarded by a swift and hard cuff across his ear.  
  
"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, Peck. You're not exactly in a position to defend yourself. Or the priest."  
  
"Where is he?" Face could barely control the anger that flared. Playing with Carla was one thing; having her mess with Father Magill another.  
  
"Oh, he's being well taken care of. He's done nothing to me, other than dealing with you. It shouldn't take Smith very long at all to find him. You, however, well, that's another story." She walked behind him. "There are a lot of woods out here, did you know that? Lots of little hills and ravines. Quite the wild area, actually. Acres of it. Miles of it. So many places to look." She placed her hand on his head; he shook it off. She chuckled. He could swear she'd appropriated Stockwell's chuckle.  
  
"How long do you suppose it will take them to find you? A day? Two days? A week? How long do you think you can wait?"  
  
Face didn't answer. He had no answer.  
  
"Well, I guess you'll find out, won't you? You thought I was going to kill you, didn't you? Well, you didn't kill me, so I'm returning the favor. But you do have to pay, you know. I don't have full use of my arm even now. It's a hindrance. And the damage you did to the organization - that wasn't good. I'm still doing damage control on that. I guess that's what this is - damage control."  
  
He could sense her bending over him, her face close to his. "When - or if - Smith finds you, you tell him that I can get at any of you, any time, any place. Cause me any more problems, and I'll prove it to him. In spades." She laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Hell hath no fury, you know. Remember that."  
  
He heard them moving away. He listened carefully but couldn't hear any cars. They must have left him some distance from the road. He had to get loose. He strained against the ropes, trying to stretch them even a little. Nothing. He lay back down on his side. Listened to the noises of the woods. Felt the sun moving slowly toward night. It was getting cold.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal raced through the house, calling Murdock and BA. Just from his tone, they knew something had happened to Face. Without question they followed him to the van. BA tore down the drive, heading for the church without even asking.  
  
They found the car first. The front tire had been shot. Face's wheelchair was still in the back. No sign of either Face or Father Magill. Perched on the dash was a little toy van.  
  
"Damn her!" Hannibal's wrath was almost a physical presence. "All right, look around. See if they left anything. And look sharp!" He knew that last was unnecessary but he was looking for anyone, anything, to take out his anger on. How the hell did this woman always know the exact time to wreak the most damage on them? Every damn time Face was most vulnerable, she was there. "Damn her!"  
  
He blamed himself for this. He'd gotten lax, thinking they were safe at the farm. Well, they were. He should never have let them go to the church. At least not by themselves. He should've protected them. He should have remembered Carla. He shouldn't have dismissed her.  
  
"Hannibal! Over here!" Murdock was shouting from a clump of small birch trees, a few yards from the road.  
  
Hannibal and BA rushed over. Father Magill was laying under the trees, loosely tied and blindfolded. Other than being stiff from laying in one position for nearly an hour, he was fine. And angry.  
  
"They struck him, Hannibal, as he sat there defenseless! What kind of animals are they?"  
  
"Did you see where they took him? Did they go in a car?"  
  
"No, I didn't see. I was blindfolded almost immediately and dragged up here, where they tied me up. I didn't see anything after they hit him." The priest looked so forlorn. "I'm so sorry, Colonel. I should have listened to you."  
  
"Not your fault, Father. Mine. I knew these people were still out there and I didn't take them seriously enough. Don't worry. We'll find him."  
  
The four men searched the woods around the car for the next hour. By then it was obvious that they had taken Face away from the area. There was not a single sign of his having been anywhere but in the car.  
  
BA took Father Magill in the van and slowly drove up the road, back toward the farm. Hannibal and Murdock each took one side of the road and followed on foot. They were all looking for any sign of a car or people. It was another long mile later that they found the only clue - tire tracks just off the shoulder of the road. Some broken down grass leading off into the woods. Then nothing. Too much short grass, hard packed ground, rock. But at least they knew the general area. They continued the search for another hour before conceding that there was just too much ground to cover. They would have to get help.  
  
*****  
  
Wakey wakey, bud.  
  
He couldn't feel his arms or legs at all. He felt cold all over.  
  
C'mon, bud, enough laying around. You gotta get outa here.  
  
I'm a little tied up at the moment, in case you hadn't noticed.  
  
Yeah, yeah. But you know, bud, when they tied you up they didn't really take into consideration your right hand.  
  
So?  
  
So the wrist might get a little sore, but I'll just bet you can slide that hand out. If you work at it.  
  
Face wiggled the right hand. At least he thought he was. He couldn't feel anything.  
  
C'mon, quit horsing around. You can't feel it so just do it. Geez.  
  
Face started pulling. He could feel some pressure on his wrist, that was all. Okay. He kept pulling, twisting, pulling some more. He started to sweat. His hand was starting to sting now. Must be getting loose, the feeling coming back. He kept pulling. Suddenly his arm jerked back, hand free. Pain. Oh, God, what pain! His arm muscles didn't want to extend, they were cramping, the blood rushing back into his wrist and hand was like stinging nettles. He lay down in agony.  
  
C'mon, c'mon, we haven't got all day.  
  
He took a deep breath. The ropes, free of his wrist, were looser now. Not much but enough. He went through the same painful procedure to pull his left hand out. By the time the pain subsided, he was drenched in sweat. He pulled off the blindfold, seeing stars. God, he just wanted to sleep.  
  
We're not done yet, bud. Quit being such a wimp. Get the ropes off and get moving!  
  
This was much harder. He couldn't do anything with his right hand and trying to untie thick knots with his left hand was nearly impossible. Every now and then he had to stop and catch his breath. But he kept at it. The pain wasn't quite so bad, as his legs had been straight out to begin with, but his feet still ached long after the circulation was restored.  
  
By now it was completely dark. The sun had set long ago, the moon had yet to rise. He couldn't see the stars because of the canopy of trees. He had no idea where he was or which direction to take. He didn't even know if he could walk. All he felt was pain and weariness.  
  
He hadn't heard the other guy for a while. Sure, where are you when I need you?  
  
You don't need me, bud. Remember? I'm dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.  
  
A playful singsong voice laced with poison.  
  
I don't need all of you. Just part of you.  
  
Uh uh. Don't work that way. Not any more. It's all or nothing, bud.  
  
Okay, then it's nothing.  
  
Fine. See how you do on your own...oh, and hey - don't forget the cats.  
  
Cats? What cats?  
  
Mountain lions, bud. Mountain lions.


	55. Chapter 55

Hannibal had called Hank as soon as they got back to the farm. He'd had to do some fast thinking on the way, not wanting to say it was a kidnapping. He didn't want Carla mentioned. She belonged to him. It took some persuasion to convince Father Magill it would be better just to say there had been an accident and Face had apparently wandered away in a daze. Within an hour of the call they had nearly 50 volunteers, including some with dogs, gathered at the road side. Hannibal had one of Face's shirts for the scent. He noticed more than one man had a rifle with him.  
  
"What's with the guns, Hank?" He was a bit concerned that the men knew the team wasn't wanted any more.  
  
"Oh, mountain lions. They're night hunters, you know."  
  
"Mountain lions?" Murdock gulped. "Are you kidding?"  
  
"No, we've got quite a glut of them around here. We can't hunt them any more, but if they get after the livestock we can shoot them."  
  
"What are the chances of actually running into one of them?"  
  
"Oh, not bad. They usually shy away from people." Hannibal started to relax. "I'm more concerned about one of them finding Peck. If he's hurt, well, they might mistake him for prey." Hank started directing the searchers to their areas. The team stared after him.  
  
The men started out, high beam flashlights darting here and there, following the dogs, who appeared to be having some difficulty finding a scent. They weren't bloodhounds, just the usual gaggle of hunting dogs. They weren't really trained or equipped to follow a human scent. Hannibal got the impression the men mainly wanted the dogs in case there were a blood trail to follow.  
  
It was rough country to travel over at night. The going was very slow and laborious. Some areas the ground rose up sharply only to fall again almost immediately. Other areas had so much scrub growth it was nearly impossible to push through. For every yard gained, they'd probably walked five.  
  
The team was getting more and more nervous. Thinking about Face out here, maybe tied up, maybe just left somewhere unable to walk out. The hunters had agreed that only the team members would actually call Face, thinking it would make it easier to hear any response, and because he might not respond to anyone else. So the team was spread out among the other searchers, calling out, hoping to hear any kind of response, and wishing they were closer to each other.  
  
*****  
  
He was cold. He knew that if you were lost, you were supposed to stay put until found. Easier said than done. He wanted desperately to get to the road, but he didn't know which direction it was, or how he'd get there anyway. He wanted desperately to build a fire, but had nothing to start one with. His SF training didn't account for only having one hand to work with. What he really wanted was to see Hannibal or Murdock or BA. Any of them, all of them.  
  
He knew he was stressed out. He hadn't come back. But the images had been coming at him constantly. One after the other, over and over. He tried pushing them back. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. He was getting so worn out from it, he started thinking...no, don't go there. Literally. He had to stay focused. The images weren't real. They had degenerated into pure fantasy - no, pure horror, far from the reality of what had actually happened. Knowing that didn't help. He still saw them, still couldn't stop them.  
  
There were a lot of night noises. Normally he wouldn't think anything about them. Tonight he kept thinking about the lions. What would happen if one of them came around? He couldn't run; he wasn't sure he'd be able to defend himself at all. To go through all this hell and then get eaten by a damn mountain lion...damn.  
  
Easy. That's what he wanted. To freak you out. Force you back inside. All or nothing for him, remember? It would be nothing. Had to be.  
  
It got colder. A heavy dew was coming on. He was getting so tired. He didn't have that much energy in reserve to begin with. He'd been nearly wiped out when they left the church, how long ago? Then Carla. And the...hell...he slumped against a tree.  
  
I should just give it up. I'm not going to get out of this damn woods. I'm not going to get well. I keep trying and it never goes right. Just never ever goes right...  
  
*****  
  
"Face!"  
  
He jerked awake.  
  
"Face!"  
  
Someone was calling him. Off in the distance. Way off. He tried to call back, but nothing came but a hoarse croak.  
  
"Face!"  
  
They were going away! No, no, I'm here! He gathered all the little strength he had left.  
  
"BA!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Face? Where are you?"  
  
He hung his head. He didn't know if he could muster up another shout. He had to try.  
  
"Here!" To his own ears it sounded like a mere whisper.  
  
"Comin, Face! We're comin!"  
  
He heard crashing in the brush. Voices coming closer. Arms wrapped around him, picking him up, carrying him away. Warmth from the man carrying him.  
  
"BA?"  
  
"Gotcha, Face. Relax. We'll have ya home in no time."  
  
"Ok." Whether he fell asleep or slipped back inside, he didn't know or care. He just knew everything went black and he felt at peace.  
  
*****  
  
Father Magill came over first thing in the morning. He was stiff and sore himself but more concerned about Templeton than himself. Mama assured the priest that he was being well taken care of. He went into the sun room and sat beside the bed, taking the hand that lay there, murmuring a soft prayer, and settling in.  
  
Hannibal was not so content. He was livid. He hadn't been able to sleep that night, even after Face was safely in bed. He'd paced the floor of his room; then he'd paced the floor in the living room. He ended up pacing up and down the lawn behind the sun room, stopping only now and then to stare at the bed through the window, assuring himself that Face was still breathing. He was going to get that bitch. If it was the last thing he did. She was not going to come after Face or any other member of his team again. Ever.  
  
But he had to be careful. He couldn't involve Face. No way. Frankly he had doubts if Face would ever be a full member of the team again. No, he knew he couldn't be. Hannibal would never, could never let Face handle a firearm again. Nor did he want Face anywhere near Carla. That was out. But as to the rest of the team, she had just become their number one priority.  
  
He knew now that Carla was watching their every move. Which meant she and/or her people had to be staying somewhere close by. There weren't that many motels around; she wouldn't be that hard to find. She must know that, of course. The question was, did she expect them to come after her, or did she think she'd scared them off? If the former, she was more brazen than he thought. If the latter, more stupid. Either way, they'd be paying her a visit. Soon.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was hovering again. He wouldn't go into Face's room while the priest was with him, but he wanted to be as close as he could without being noticed. Which meant the kitchen. Which meant under Mama's feet. She was already worried about the slight fever Face had developed; Murdock's constant movement between the kitchen table and the kitchen door was enough to drive her wild.  
  
"For heaven's sake, Murdock, settle someplace and stay put! Either sit at that table and be still or go in and sit with 'em, but quit runnin back and forth."  
  
Murdock slunk over to the table. "Sorry, Mama, but I'm worried about him. He was so cold when we found him last night..."  
  
"I know, sugar, but you're not helpin any. I'm keeping a close eye on him, and if that little fever he's got gets any worse I'll give Maggie a call. Okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Murdock wasn't really satisfied with that. He wanted to 'fix' it. He wanted to...okay, admit it. He wanted to be the hero. Everyone had expected him to work miracles with Face and so far he hadn't done much of anything. Face hadn't acted like, well, like he was supposed to. Murdock would just figure out what was going on with him and boom! Something would happen and push him off in some other direction. The guy had been like an emotional pinball machine.  
  
And now, having admitted his frustration with Face, Murdock felt guilty. It sure wasn't Face's fault. He hadn't known which end was up for months. Crap. He knew who he was really angry at. Carla. But there wasn't anything he could do about her. Hannibal kept saying they would take care of her, but they never did anything! Okay, in fairness, they hadn't had a chance to 'cause of Face. Damn.  
  
Murdock banged his fist on the table in frustration. That was enough for Mama. She shooed him out so fast he didn't know what hit him.  
  
"Go find Hannibal and tell him to do somethin with you, I have had it!" and the door slammed on his backside.  
  
Mumbling and grumbling, Murdock went in search of Hannibal. No matter what you wanted to do, you did what Mama said...  
  
*****  
  
BA was working on the van. He wasn't just working off his anger at Carla, or his worry over Face. He wanted the van in top condition for one very good reason. They were going after Carla. No one had said anything yet, but he knew Hannibal had been up all night. Under the circumstances, it was easy to see what was coming.  
  
The only thing he didn't know was what Hannibal planned on doin to stop her. A little over a year ago, he woulda figured on some dumb plan that should never work but somehow would anyway. Now, it wasn't that simple. Things had changed. Things had gotten too complicated. Everythin and everybody was out of whack. They weren't the same team they had been. It was more like they had been in Nam. When more often than not the plans were ugly. They had to be. It wasn't until they got back to the States and out of Bragg, that things got cleaned up, where they didn't set out to kill the enemy, just put 'em out of commission. BA wasn't sure that was gonna be the way things were any more. And that bothered him.  
  
If Face was himself, he woulda been talkin Hannibal down. But if Face was himself, he wouldn't need to talk to Hannibal 'cause none of this woulda happened. Man, he was startin to sound like the Fool. BA tossed down the wrench and walked wearily toward the kitchen. He didn't want to bother his Mama with his troubles. He just wanted to sit with her for a bit. Just sit and not think about what could happen.  
  
*****  
  
Father Magill had long since left; Murdock had cleaned every weapon they had with them; the van was running better than it ever had. Hannibal had taken Maggie's car and done his reconnaissance of the various motels. Then he had pulled BA and Murdock into the library for a long talk. They were still in there when Face woke up early in the afternoon.  
  
Mama had been sitting with him. His fever had spiked a bit and she almost called Maggie, but then it dropped again. It still wasn't gone completely so she kept checking it. She figured he'd just caught a bit of a chill last night, but considering he wasn't in the best of shape to begin with, she wasn't going to be too casual about it.  
  
Face didn't move when he first woke. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, lost in thought. Finally he spoke.  
  
"I'm tired, Mama."  
  
"Why, you just woke up, baby. How can you be tired?"  
  
"I'm tired of fighting. Tired of trying to make things like they used to be. They aren't ever going to be that way again. Are they?"  
  
Mama didn't know how to answer him. She thought it was maybe the fever talking, or maybe he was still shook up from last night.  
  
"He's going to go after Carla. He shouldn't do that, Mama. He should just let things be. Leave her alone. Will you tell him that? Please?"  
  
"Sure I will, Face. I'll go tell him right now if you want."  
  
"Please."  
  
As Mama headed toward the library, she knew it was a fool's mission. The three of them were bound and determined to make sure that woman never came after them again. What worried her was how they were going to do it. Face was right about that. Things were never going to be the same again.  
  
She knocked at the door and stepped in. She knew things weren't going well with her boys. Hannibal was standing at the window, a cold look in his eyes. Murdock was curled up in the big lounge, staring at his shoes. Her Scooter was standing opposite Hannibal, a deeper scowl on his face than usual, arms crossed defiantly as he glared at his colonel.  
  
"Face just woke up. He wanted me to tell you to leave that woman alone. He doesn't want you going after her."  
  
"Face doesn't realize what's happening."  
  
"Oh, I think he does, Hannibal. Better'n you think. He told me, not for you but jus' tellin me, that he was tired of fightin, that things would never be like they were. He's really feelin bad, and I don't think you all should be plannin anythin that could make things worse. If anything happened to any of you, it would kill him. If he thought you were going after that woman like he did Stockwell, it would drive him right back inside hisself." She looked at them sadly. "I know you want to keep her from hurtin any of you again, especially him. But if you go off doin somethin you know ain't right, you're jus gonna hurt yourselves more'n she ever could. It's gotta stop somewhere. You think about that."  
  
Mama quietly closed the door and went back to Face. They had done all they could.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal stepped into Face's room. Mama looked at him for a moment before leaving him alone. He nodded at her, not quite reassuringly, but not coldly either.  
  
"Hey, kid. Feeling better?"  
  
"Not really, Hannibal. I'm just...I don't know."  
  
"Mama told us what you said, about leaving Carla alone. You know we can't do that, Face. She'll be dogging us worse than Decker if we don't put a stop to it. But BA and Murdock and I had a long talk. I promise you, Face, whatever we do, Carla will walk away from it. Not unscathed, but she will walk away. Okay?"  
  
"Sure, Hannibal."  
  
"Okay. Now I want you to listen to me for just another minute. I don't want you thinking about Carla any more. I don't want you thinking about anything to do with Carla, or Stockwell, or any of that shit. I want you to think about how good it is just to be alive. I want you to sit out in that meadow and smell the sweet grass, and listen to the wind, and watch the birds flying. And while you sit out there doing all that, you keep in the back of your mind all the people you have around you that care about you and want you to be happy. Okay?"  
  
In all the past year, Hannibal had seen Face go through a full range of emotions except one. He had never cried.  
  
He did now.


	56. Chapter 56

Hannibal walked out of Face's room and gently closed the door. Face had cried quietly for a few minutes, getting embarrassed as hell about falling apart, while Hannibal talked softly about odds and ends until his friend finally calmed and drifted off to sleep again. Hannibal was not disturbed. It had been good for him, embarrassment or not. After all he'd been through, a few tears were a small enough release. He'd needed to let go. But now Hannibal needed to find Mama, concerned about that fever.  
  
Mama looked at him full in the eye as he entered the living room where she waited. He cleared his throat, still, at his age, intimidated by this woman.  
  
"I think Face is sick. He's got a pretty good fever."  
  
"It's gone up again?" She shook her head. "I better call Maggie. It's been goin up and down all day."  
  
"Yeah, probably a good idea. Uh, Mama, about Carla..."  
  
Mama looked at him expectantly.  
  
"You were right. You and Face. We need to do something about her, keep her from coming at us again. But we won't, uh, we won't do any 'real' damage to her. Or her people."  
  
"I'm glad, Hannibal. I'm really glad." She smiled at him, the warm smile they all loved to receive from her. "I knew you'd come to your senses sooner or later - I was jus hopin it would be sooner." Then she strode from the room to call Maggie.  
  
*****  
  
Maggie was sipping coffee in the kitchen. Hannibal and Mama sat at the table with her, Murdock and BA leaning against the cupboard.  
  
"Face has got the beginnings of a bronchial infection, but I think we caught it early enough so it shouldn't be a problem. Keep him sitting up as much as possible, plenty of fluids. I'll leave a prescription for him. He should be fine in three or four days."  
  
"Well, that's a relief. I was afraid it was gonna be somethin serious. He's so wore down already..."  
  
"That's still a concern. He doesn't have a lot to fight back with. No more nights in the woods and he should be fine." She looked directly at Hannibal.  
  
Maggie could be infuriating at times. As if he had left Face out there. Okay, okay, don't go down that road right now. It wasn't the time to lose his temper.  
  
"All right, well, as long he's taken care of, we're good then. Now, if you ladies will excuse us, we've got a little errand to run."  
  
"Hannibal." He looked at Mama. "Remember..."  
  
"Don't worry, Mama." BA squeezed her shoulder. "We'll take care of business like we always do."  
  
The drive to the motel was silent. Each man thinking about his role, and trying to keep their tempers on track. They would have to have cool heads when they dealt with Carla. Not only to make sure they didn't go too far, but because Carla was dangerous. She lived in Stockwell's world. And Stockwell's world contained a lot of not very nice people. At the same time, they had to remember that she was not Stockwell. She had her own kind of venom.  
  
They parked the van several blocks away from the motel. It was late afternoon. Broad daylight. People on the streets. They were going to send a message of their own to Carla. That they didn't care. If they wanted to get to her, they would.  
  
There were two Ables at the back of the motel, one at each end of the drive. One Able disappeared around the corner of the building. The second was just getting suspicious when he came back around, gave a short wave. Everything okay. The second Able turned, went back to watching the street. His mistake. His companion was behind him in seconds. The unconscious body went with the first behind the dumpster.  
  
"Rear secured."  
  
Two Ables were parked in a car across the street. Casually dressed, Hannibal had almost missed them the first time he'd driven by. Carla was good. She'd learned a thing or two. But she was young yet.  
  
The two Ables watched as the drunk wandered up the street toward them. They knew of Colonel Smith's disguises and had been warned to look out for any suspicious activity - any. And this drunk was definitely suspicious. He stopped two cars down, leaning against a tree, fumbling with his zipper. It looked like he was getting ready to take a leak. The Ables weren't sure if this guy was for real or not. While they were watching, a stealthy hand reached up, a couple drops of super glue going into each car lock. A moment later, a stream of pepper spray was leveled through the window. Yeah, these guys were all young yet.  
  
"Front secured."  
  
The drunk, in the meantime, had stumbled across the street to the motel, stopping a few feet to the east of the motel room. His mysterious 'assistant' came from the opposite side, casually reading a newspaper. As he walked in front of the door, he suddenly turned and joined the drunk in crashing through the door. A crash came from the back window only a second later. The door slammed shut again, and the street was quiet.  
  
Inside the apartment, two guns were trained on the remaining Ables. The third, held by the drunk, was aimed squarely at Carla's head.  
  
"Hi, Carla. Nice to see you again." The drunk grinned as he lit a cigar.  
  
*****  
  
Mama was covered in blood. Every time she raised the damp cloth to bathe his face, she dripped more blood on him. He could hardly breathe through it. He tried to push her away but his hands slipped in the gore. Everywhere he looked, more blood. Even when he closed his eyes.  
  
"Lay still, hon, let me get you cooled off some."  
  
"No, get away, get away..."  
  
Mama sat back. The more she tried to make Face comfortable, the more agitated he became. She knew his fever was spiking high again. It worried her. She needed to get that fever down again.  
  
"Please, baby, let me help you, we'll get you cooled down..."  
  
"NO!" He grabbed her arm, tight, glaring at her. "Stay away from me!" He shoved with all his might. Mama fell back against the wall, stunned by his reaction.  
  
"What on earth?" She wasn't hurt, physically. But she was scared. Sick he may be, but she was alone with someone who...well, she wanted help.  
  
"Okay, Face, I'll leave you alone for a bit. I'll check back in a little while, okay, baby?"  
  
He continued to glare at her.  
  
Mama hurried to the phone. Maggie answered almost immediately. Mama told her quickly what had happened.  
  
"He's definitely delirious from the fever. I can come over sooner if you'd like. Like now?" She'd noted the unease in Mama's voice.  
  
"If you wouldn't mind, Maggie. I love that boy, but he's just not acting right. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'll be there in a few minutes. I'll bring something to calm him down."  
  
Maggie arrived in short order. She understood the other woman's skittishness. Face had shown how violent he could get when agitated. While Mama hadn't really seen that side of him yet, she'd heard about it. Maggie didn't want her to see any more of it. Especially not alone.  
  
"Hi, Mama. I'll go see to Face right away, okay?"  
  
"I wish you would. I don't mind tellin you, Maggie, he's scarin me some."  
  
"Don't worry. This should help him relax and sleep. Then we'll see about getting that fever reduced."  
  
She made sure she knocked on the door before entering Face's room. The last thing she wanted to do was startle him. He was laying on the bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and arms. He wasn't asleep; his eyes were watching her every move.  
  
"Hello, Face. I understand you're a bit uncomfortable tonight. I've got something that will help you relax a little, okay?"  
  
"What is it?" Suspicious. That tone sounded unpleasantly familiar.  
  
Deciding honesty was probably the best policy, she took out the syringe. "It's just a mild sedative, Face. Just to help you relax. You need to rest until that infection is taken care of, okay?"  
  
"I don't think so. I think you need to put that thing back where you got it. Now."  
  
Oh boy, this isn't good.  
  
"All right, Face. But I need you to rest. It's not good for you to get all upset. Okay?"  
  
"Sure, Doc. Noooo problem." She could swear he was leering at her. Hannibal, get home, soon.  
  
"Okay, Face. I'll check in on you a little later."  
  
He smiled at her. That was a definite leer.  
  
*****  
  
"So, what now, Colonel? Do I go the way of the General?"  
  
"No, Carla, that was a special circumstance." Hannibal decided cavalier was the way to deal with this issue. No way was this broad going to know what pulling that trigger had done to him. "See, the General messed up one of my team. Nobody does that. And then he was gonna blow him away, and nobody does that either. You might take a lesson from that. It's not nice to mess with my team."  
  
"So what do you intend to do?"  
  
"Give you a little free advice. Kinda like you gave Face. See, we aren't exactly dumb. One thing we do is hunt down bad guys. We're real good at it. Really good. So while you may be able to find us, we can also find you. Like we just did. It might take us just a tad longer, but we get the job done. So I'm telling you, now, that if you or your goons come anywhere near Face, or any other member of this team, or anybody connected with this team, we will come for you. And you may find that Stockwell was the lucky one." Hannibal's voice was icy cold. He wasn't sure if he actually meant the implied meaning to his threat or not. No. He did mean it. This was her warning. Her only warning.  
  
"I can have this problem taken care of before you get back to the farm, Colonel."  
  
The bitch had balls, he had to grant her that.  
  
"You might want to check with a few of our past acquaintances before you get too confident, Carla. We haven't survived this long without learning a few things. Honing a few skills. You may have a bunch of Ables to work with, but obviously they aren't quite up to par yet. They have a lot to learn. And you don't send people like that up against people like us. Y'see, Carla, something you have to take into consideration is how much each side has to lose, and how badly they want to put that up for grabs. I don't think your guys are quite willing to pay the price, just for your pride. Of course, maybe you've found a bunch of mindless drones, but they tend to lack imagination. Which we don't.  
  
"Face it, Carla. You may have some power - but we've still got the advantage. We can think on our feet. And we're willing to take a lot of chances. You've got a bunch of people who can't wipe their asses if you don't tell 'em first. There is just no way we shoulda been able to get in here. They're good, Carla, but they're not good enough.  
  
"So you just take any more thoughts about us and shove 'em up your ass, okay? And you leave 'em there. Because, so help me, you come near us again, it'll be the sorriest day of your warped little life."  
  
He nodded to his men. Almost synchronized, they swung their weapons, knocking out the Ables, watching them drop to the floor. Carla's eyes were blazing.  
  
"Ta ta, Carla. Don't bother seeing us out."  
  
The three men strode from the room, walked casually back to the van, and drove leisurely back to the farm.


	57. Chapter 57

The first thing they saw as they pulled up to the house was Maggie's car. That wasn't good. The first thing they heard when they got out of the car was yelling from the back of the house. That was worse.  
  
BA was the first through Face's door, followed immediately by Murdock and Hannibal. Face was out of bed, leaning heavily against the windows in the corner by the bed. He was deathly pale, red splotches on his cheeks, sweat running off him. He was breathing hard, almost panting. Mama was standing, shocked, by the outside door, still holding a wet cloth, tears running down her face. Maggie was on the floor at her feet, struggling to get up. A large bruise was darkening on her cheek, a trickle of blood coming from it.  
  
"What the hell..." Hannibal was stunned.  
  
BA was not so hesitant. In two strides he was at Maggie's side, helping her up. He pulled both women past Hannibal and Murdock, into the next room, away from Face.  
  
Face was glaring at the two remaining men. Actually, glaring was not the word that came to Hannibal's mind. It was more the look that a trapped animal would give its tormentors. Fury and fear mixed into a dangerous warning. Don't come near me.  
  
BA stepped cautiously back into the room, speaking softly so Face couldn't hear. "He's bad, Hannibal. The fever got him; shoved Mama when she tried to cool him off, wouldn't let Maggie give him nothin. He kept gettin worse and when Maggie tried to give him a shot again, he went wild. Slugged her when she tried to stop him gettin out of bed."  
  
"They okay? For now?"  
  
"Yeah. Maggie said we gotta get him down, so's she can give him that shot. Otherwise he's jus gonna get worse. Fever's way too high."  
  
"Let me try to talk to him, Hannibal. Please." Murdock was beside himself. He didn't want Face hurt, and he knew from looking at him that he would not go down easily.  
  
"Okay, Captain. Give it a try."  
  
Murdock stepped away from the other two, drawing Face's immediate attention. Looking closer, he could see he was barely standing at all, legs trembling with the effort of holding him upright.  
  
"Hey, Face. What's going on?"  
  
No response. Face shifted slightly, trying to gain support from the wall.  
  
"Face, we aren't going to hurt you. That shot Maggie wants to give you, that's just to help you feel better. So we can get the fever down. You're sick, muchacho. We just want to get you well again."  
  
Still no response.  
  
"Face, will you let me help you back into bed at least? You look like you're about ready to keel over."  
  
"No." The voice was almost inaudible, raspy and rough sounding.  
  
Murdock made his voice soft, soothing. Mesmerizing. "I think you're getting pretty tired, Face. Hard work standing up like that when you're sick. Real hard work. And you look like you're pretty hot, too. Fever's not a good thing, is it? Makes you sweaty and tired and you can't really think straight, can you? Everything's kinda fuzzy, huh, muchacho? If it were me, I'd want to lay down on a soft bed, nice cool sheets, soft pillow, yeah, I'd sure like to lay down like that, don't you think that would feel good right about now, Face, just lay down and let the world just float away, not have to work so hard to stand up, not have to worry about anything, just lay on that soft cool bed and drift off to sleep, rest, not hurt any more..."  
  
Face was sagging. The more Murdock droned on, the harder it was for him to keep his eyes open, the harder it was to stand, the harder it was to watch them.  
  
Hannibal and BA were watching, enthralled, as Murdock talked. He was damn near hypnotizing them all with his soft monotone. They watched as Face's eyes calmed, got dull, and finally closed. BA caught him before he hit the floor.  
  
"Man, he's burnin, Hannibal."  
  
"Maggie!"  
  
The doctor came rushing in, a small bandage on her cheek. Quickly she administered the sedative, followed by another syringe of antibiotics.  
  
"Okay, give him a little while now, we'll see if the fever starts dropping."  
  
"Shouldn't we do something to cool him off, or..."  
  
"No, the shots I gave him should take care of it. We'll watch him to make sure." She sighed heavily, and sat down in Mama's rocking chair.  
  
"Are you okay, Maggie?" Hannibal knelt down in front of her, looking closely at her swollen cheek.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be a sight for a while, but I'm okay." She looked anxiously at Hannibal. "He didn't do it, Hannibal. Not really. It was the fever. Don't be angry at him."  
  
"I'm not, Maggie, not really. I just...worry about you."  
  
"I know." She smiled at him. "Now I have a patient to attend to. Out. All of you."  
  
*****  
  
He groaned. Felt someone wipe off his face again.  
  
Solicitous, isn't she? Doesn't bear a grudge.  
  
Stay away from her.  
  
Sure, bud.  
  
I mean it.  
  
The blood started rising again.  
  
It's a nice shade, really, don't you think? Such a nice deep red.  
  
No.  
  
I can make it go away, you know. No more blood. Never.  
  
I don't believe you.  
  
Oh yeah, I can. I've got the power, remember. I've got the strength. The will. I can do what you can't.  
  
I can do it. I can.  
  
I know better, bud. We know better. You can't do this alone.  
  
I'm not alone.  
  
Oh, what, Hannibal? BA or Murdock? They can't help you, bud. They don't even know what's going on.  
  
They'll help me. They always do.  
  
You haven't told them, bud. They can't help if you don't tell them. And you won't, will you?  
  
I...I don't know.  
  
You won't. You don't want them to know about the others. You're afraid to tell them. Those three, they could accept that. That was for them. The others were for you. Save your own skin. They won't accept that.  
  
You did that.  
  
Yeah, yeah, I did, bud. Killed them for you. You should be grateful.  
  
No. You killed them for yourself. You wanted to live.  
  
And you didn't.  
  
I didn't care.  
  
But now you do. 'I want to get well.' You don't want to get well - you just want to forget...I can help you do that.  
  
...How?  
  
Let me out.  
  
No.  
  
Yeah, bud. Let me out and you can forget it. 'Cause it doesn't bother me. It never bothers me. You're the weak link, bud. You're the one that always feels bad about that shit. Your whole fuckin life, the hard stuff always bothered you.  
  
No.  
  
Hey, you owe me, bud. I got you out of Nam, didn't I? Kept you alive over there. And how many times did I save those buddies of yours? Got them the stuff they needed? That wasn't you, bud. That was me. Me. You couldn't scam a diaper off a baby. You used me every time the hard stuff came along. And then shut me back up again. Now it's pay off time.  
  
No. You're wrong. I did my job. I did. Not you.  
  
Right. Okay, if that's the way you feel about it. I'll go away - for a while. You can handle your own shit. In spades, bud. I'll make sure of that. You'll have it all. Everything I've been keeping from you. Everything. See how that works for you.  
  
I can handle it.  
  
Sure you can, bud. Sure you can.  
  
The voice receded. The blood rose.  
  
*****  
  
They were sitting around the kitchen table, not wanting to talk about Face. It was too fragile yet.  
  
"You think we've heard the last of Carla, Colonel?" Murdock was sipping slowly at the hot chocolate. The marshmallow was slowly dissolving, and he watched the white rings swirl around the cup.  
  
"I don't know. It depends on whether she'll let her pride get in the way of common sense."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I think she thinks she's better than she is. The overconfidence of the uninitiated. She's always been the follower - a damn good assistant but without enough experience as a leader. She's gonna make mistakes. And we're gonna be one of them."  
  
"So what do we do, Hannibal?" BA didn't like this whole conversation.  
  
"We try to honor the promise we made, especially the one we made to Face. Until she backs off or until she pushes the envelope too far. No one on this team gets hurt again. Promise or not."  
  
"We stayin here then? Or moving on?"  
  
"We're staying. Face is comfortable here. He gets over this infection, it'll be the best place for him to get better. We've got the security system. We'll be all right here. I'm not running from her. She wants to come here, we're ready for her."  
  
Silence enveloped the room. Mama had not said a word. She knew when her thoughts would be welcomed, when they would not. Old fashioned as it may seem, this was the men's domain. It had been different before. Face's request had given her the 'right' to speak. Now she was just BA's mama. If they wanted her input, they would ask for it.  
  
She refilled their cups and wandered into Face's room. Maggie was dozing in the rocker. Face was still sleeping, but restless. She touched his forehead. It was still warm, but cooler, she thought. Good. He'd be okay now. They wouldn't let it get out of hand again. Any of it.  
  
Maggie stirred, looked at Mama. Smiled wanly.  
  
"You gonna tell Hannibal what really happened?"  
  
Maggie frowned. "No, I don't think it would serve any purpose."  
  
"Up to you, Maggie. Just promise me one thing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If he stirs at all, you call someone. And don't be alone with him any more."  
  
"That wasn't Face, Mama. He won't do it again. He won't even remember it."  
  
"Jus the same, I'd feel better if you was mindful of him. He's not right yet, y'know. Don't know what he might be thinkin."  
  
Maggie sighed. "Okay, Mama. You're right, of course. Until he's completely back, I'll be careful."  
  
Mama nodded and went off to bed.  
  
Maggie sighed again. One more person that would look at Face differently from now on. He'd lost more than anyone would ever know.


	58. Chapter 58

Face watched Mama carefully. The last couple of days he'd sensed something different about her. She didn't talk as much. Didn't stay with him as much, either. Left that to Murdock. He wasn't sure why. Had something happened while he was so sick? He didn't remember much after being dumped in the woods that night. Not until yesterday, when he'd finally started waking up. He'd tried asking her about it, but she'd put him off, saying she was just feeling a little homesick. Face didn't really believe her. He just knew that Mama didn't seem to be the same.  
  
Father Magill was quieter when he came to see him, too. But Face knew why that was. Maybe it had been a mistake, having him hear his confession. He had said things that he knew Father Magill would have a very hard time hearing. He knew the priest still cared about him; it was just different now. Face had accepted that. The priest was going back to LA later that day. His superiors felt he'd been gone long enough. That's what he told Face. But he didn't look him right in the eye when he said it. He didn't look at him much at all any more.  
  
Face looked out the window, toward the meadow. He'd like to go out there again, but Maggie wouldn't let him out of bed yet. Another day, she said. He had stared at her, horrified, when she came over yesterday; he couldn't help it. She had a dark bruise that covered almost one whole side of her face. He asked her what had happened, but she just said she tripped and fell. He was surprised when Hannibal said the same thing. Face knew damn well what a bruise from a punch looked like, but he couldn't exactly call them liars. He wondered why Hannibal wouldn't tell him what really happened. He'd like to get his hands on whoever did it. He hoped Carla hadn't had anything to do with it. Maybe that's why Hannibal wouldn't tell him.  
  
He sighed. Murdock looked over at him, smiled. "Get'cha anything, Face?"  
  
"No, thanks, Murdock."  
  
Something had to have happened while he was out of it. He was sure of it. Everyone was acting different. BA didn't come in to see him much at all. Except when Mama was there. Then he seemed to appear out of nowhere. Scowling even more than usual. And Murdock - he was just always there. Always. Even when Father Magill had come to say good-bye. He didn't like to be around the priest for some reason, but he'd stayed in the room right until Father had actually started his good-bye, and only then had he stepped out. Something wasn't right. And it made Face nervous.  
  
He looked at Murdock. With the exception of Bancroft, Murdock had never been able to hide anything from Face for long. Not if Face really wanted to know. And he really wanted to know now. All he had to do was ask, and he'd know immediately if Murdock was hiding something.

"Murdock?"  
  
"Yeah, Face?"  
  
"What happened while I was sick?"  
  
He knew it. Murdock went just a shade pink, and blinked, before he answered. "Nothing, Face. Same old same old."  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
"No, swear it, Face. Nothing happened. Really. But hey, Mama baked a bunch of cookies this morning. I'll go get us some, okay? Be right back." He scooted out the door before Face could say any more.  
  
Something had happened. Something had definitely happened.

*****  
  
BA had known there was something more to that night than either Maggie or his mama was telling. He knew Mama too well, and something was definitely bothering her. The next morning, he'd cornered her alone in the kitchen.  
  
"What's goin on, Mama? What else happened last night?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talkin about, Scooter. There's nothin more to tell. He was out of his head with that fever and things jus got outta hand, that's all."  
  
"What things, Mama? I know it's somethin more'n you and Maggie are sayin. Tell me."  
  
Mama had sighed deeply. She could no more keep secrets from her son than miss church on Sunday. "You can't tell the others, Scooter. I mean that. And you can't get mad at that boy, either. It wouldn't do no good and would just cause a lot of problems. And Maggie don't want them to know."  
  
BA didn't like the sound of that one bit. But if this was the only way to get the truth, he'd agree.  
  
"Jus remember, Face didn't know what he was doin. He never woulda done it if not for that fever." BA was getting impatient and didn't bother to hide it. "It's jus, well, he said some things to Maggie that weren't, well, they weren't very nice. They were...dirty."

"What?!"  
  
"Now, Scooter, remember you promised."  
  
BA brought his anger under control with only a great deal of effort. "Okay, Mama. Why did he hit Maggie? For real."  
  
"Face hit her after she...he...he grabbed her. And she fought back. And that's when he hit her. I jus never thought that boy had it in him."  
  
Face didn't. Face would never have done anything like that. But then again, over the last year Face had done a lot of things BA thought he'd never do. He was beginning to wonder whether he knew Face at all any more. Began to wonder just how far they could trust him.  
  
"What d'you want to do, Mama?"  
  
"BA, I think I jus wanna go on home. I hate to leave him, I truly do, but I jus can't be around him any more. The things he said to Maggie, they were just filth. I don't think I can take care of him any more. I just keep hearin that..." Mama was crying again.  
  
"Okay, Mama, it's okay. We'll stay until he's over this infection thing and then we'll go home. Both of us."  
  
"Oh, Scooter, I can't ask you to leave. And I don't want you to, jus cause of this."  
  
"No, Mama, I need to go home for a while. And besides, Carla might cause problems for you." That was true enough, and it gave a plausible reason for Hannibal. BA had promised he wouldn't say anything and he meant it.

*****  
  
Things seemed to be falling apart and Hannibal wasn't sure why. It had started the night Face hit Maggie. There was something not right about that. He'd gone along with her in not telling Face; it would only have made him feel terrible and it wasn't his fault, really. But there was something else to it. Frustratingly, neither Maggie nor Mama were talking.  
  
Then, after Face was feeling better, Mama said she needed to go back home. That wasn't really a problem. He would be eternally grateful she'd come out and taken care of Face the way she had. It was just so sudden. He knew that it, too, had something to do with that night. And it wasn't just the violence.  
  
BA said he thought he should go back with her, just for a while. Make sure there were no problems from Carla. That had bothered Hannibal. He had known that eventually BA would go back, and they would just call him like they had when Face had been in the hospital. No, what bothered him was that he had come to Hannibal and just announced his plans without even discussing it with him.  
  
Of course, he'd known that Father Magill would be leaving any time. He'd stayed a lot longer than Hannibal had expected. They had been lucky his superiors had been so understanding. What he didn't like was the priest finding out about Face and Maggie. He could tell by the pained look in the priest's eyes that it was almost, if not definitely, the straw that broke the camel's back. The immediate warmth that Father Magill had always shown when it came to Face had diminished, and it made Hannibal sad for both of them.

He told Maggie a different reason for his mood. "I guess it's just everybody leaving at the same time. Going from a house full of people to three of us."  
  
"Well, I'll still be coming by. You won't get rid of me that easily, John Smith, so don't even try." She tried to kid him into a better mood, but she could see he was upset. He'd gotten used to having the team all under his wing again, as well as the others. She also knew the shrinking of his in-house family wasn't the only reason he was down.  
  
"Don't worry. It's just change, not catastrophe." She hoped.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock and Face were back in the meadow, soaking up the sun. Face was getting stronger every day. He was, with a lot of help from either Murdock or Hannibal, getting up out of the wheelchair and trying to walk around a bit. He missed BA. He'd told Face they were going to do some exercises of some kind, but then he and Mama had suddenly gone back to Chicago.

It had been difficult for Face, losing them both, at practically the same time Father Magill had left. BA hadn't even said when he'd be back. Their good-byes to him had seemed almost cold. Face knew there was something wrong; Mama wasn't just homesick and BA wasn't going back just for a little while, as he said. There had been something wrong and it had to do with him. He just knew it. The old feelings of abandonment had hit hard, and Murdock and Hannibal had had their hands full for a few days. Finally BA had called and talked to Face, assuring him he was just worried about Mama, and that he would be coming back, he just wasn't sure exactly when. Of course, no one told Face that BA had only called after Murdock had asked him to. And BA wouldn't tell Murdock why he was so reluctant to talk to Face at all.  
  
Face was still having the flashbacks. Murdock had thought those would go away eventually, but they seemed to be coming on stronger and stronger. He could see immediately when Face was having one. His eyes would get wide, and he'd get pale, and start trembling. Before, they would be able to help him get through them, just by letting him know they were there. It was getting harder and harder to do that now. He seemed to get caught in them. He wouldn't tell either Hannibal or Murdock about them, and would get agitated if they pushed him to. All they could do was be there while he went through his moments of hell.  
  
Hannibal had talked to Murdock about Face and the team. It hurt, but Murdock knew Hannibal was right when he said Face wouldn't be able to go on any missions with them again. Despite his trying, his strength wasn't returning very quickly, and no one thought he would ever be completely himself in that department. He had big problems dealing with confrontations of any kind, which showed little sign of abating. Murdock didn't think Face would be able to pick up a gun again; Hannibal was afraid of what might happen if he did.  
  
No one had mentioned any of this to Face. He'd been doing well for the last couple of weeks, other than the flashbacks, and they hadn't wanted to mess it up. Maggie happily reported that he was gaining weight, slowly but still, it was something. Face would spend time "working out" as he wryly put it, walking as far with one of his two 'helpers' as he could before wearing out. He was more and more eager to engage in conversation. He even spoke on occasion of when he would be able to get back with the team on jobs, but both Hannibal and Murdock became adept on changing the subject without suspicion. He'd asked about Carla a couple of times, but Hannibal had told him that was all taken care of and he seemed to accept it. Their days were spent just enjoying the farm and all it had to offer. Murdock would work with Face, helping him get used to being left-handed and doing as many things as possible with one hand. Hannibal was teaching him to cook, something Face had never had a lot of talent for. So Hannibal considered it a challenge, and Face was glad to have something to do. A couple of times they all went fishing, and a trip to Maggie's for checkups became an all around outing, a chance to travel the countryside and see what was happening. It was a very peaceful interlude which none of them really wanted to see end.


	59. Chapter 59

"Face. S'okay, I'm here."  
  
It didn't seem to be helping. Face still had that look of horrified fascination, looking right through him, seeing God only knew what. No matter how hard they would try to break through to him, the flashbacks would not let him go. Murdock had no idea what he was seeing, but until it played out, there was nothing he could do to help.  
  
Trouble had sifted back into their lives. At least that's how it seemed to Murdock. Slowly pulling apart the idyllic period they had all been enjoying. It had started with the flashbacks seeming to get a little worse each day. Face refused to talk about them. But it was obvious to both Murdock and Hannibal that they were taking a toll, little by little. They had watched in concern as Face's smile got more brittle, more forced; many days he appeared tense or uneasy; he began to have trouble sleeping. And daily, the flashbacks seemed to come more frequently, last longer, were harder for him to move out of.  
  
Today it seemed even worse. He could see Face was trying to break out of it, the attempt to concentrate on reality, to push past whatever images had grabbed him. Sweating, shaking, it was almost as if he were physically pulling himself away from it. The coffee cup he held fell to the floor, shattering. Face relaxed suddenly, would have collapsed completely had not Murdock grabbed him. Hannibal came rushing into the kitchen.  
  
Taking in the scene, Hannibal's shoulders slumped and he stepped over to give Murdock a hand. "Another one?"  
  
"Yeah, worst one yet." He looked closely at Face as they settled him at the kitchen table. "You okay, Face?"  
  
"Yeah." Face mumbled something more and laid his head on his arms, eyes closed. It would take a few minutes to gather himself together again. Always the same.  
  
"Somebody's got to get him talking." Hannibal spoke quietly, not wanting Face to hear. Both Hannibal and Murdock had tried. Over and over. But, as with discussions about overseas, any attempts at getting Face to discuss the flashbacks had so far resulted only in getting him more upset and angry. Something had to be done. He was fighting a losing battle.  
  
"I'll try, Hannibal. Maybe today'll be different."  
  
Hannibal nodded and headed back to whatever he'd been doing. Murdock watched him go. That was the other 'trouble'. Hannibal was getting antsy. Murdock could tell. He didn't neglect Face, by any means, but he spent less and less time with him, more and more time looking at the barn and the land. Murdock found plans he'd sketched for an obstacle course, and for supplies and ordnance storage in the barn. It was obvious to Murdock that Hannibal would start actively looking for clients as soon as he could. The only thing standing between him and the Jazz was Face. And it was starting to wear on him.  
  
Face slowly straightened up. He looked like hell. Worn down. Maybe now would be a good time to talk. When his defenses were down, when he looked like he could use all the help he could get.  
  
"Face, how ya doin'?"  
  
"Okay. I'm okay."  
  
"Well, not really, huh? You took a pretty good hit from that thing."  
  
"I'll be okay."  
  
"Face, why don't you let us help you? You don't have to go through that all by yourself."  
  
"I can handle it."  
  
Murdock took a deep breath. There would probably be a scene, but he needed to break down that wall. Face would never get over this if he wouldn't let them help.  
  
"Face, I'm gonna be real honest with you. I don't think you can handle it by yourself. You're not strong enough yet. And these things just keep beating you down even more."  
  
Murdock had expected an angry retort. Instead, Face got pale and looked at Murdock like he'd just stabbed him in the back.  
  
"You really think I'm too weak to deal with this?"  
  
"Well, no, I mean..." Murdock had stepped into some kind of sinkhole here. He hadn't seen it but he was going down fast. "Not that you're weak, exactly, I mean, it's just that they seem to drain you so bad. And they're getting worse, aren't they? You can't seem to fight them off any more. I mean, it just seems like they're winning the war here, Face. We - Hannibal and I - we just want to help even things out for you." This was not going well. The more Murdock talked, the more defeated Face looked. Great.  
  
"Look, Face, I'm not putting this too well, I know. But, I'm just saying if you would let us know what's going on, what the flashback's are like, then maybe we could help you get rid of them."  
  
"No, you can't help me, Murdock. You or Hannibal. You wouldn't understand. I'll take care of it." Face awkwardly stood and headed out the door, drifting in the direction of the meadow.  
  
Murdock stared after him, not sure if he should follow or not. Consciously reminding himself that Face was still not all that steady on his feet, he followed at a discreet distance.  
  
*****  
  
Face didn't even realize he'd walked to the meadow. It shouldn't have surprised him; it was where he liked to be when he was troubled or upset. It was quiet and peaceful. The perfect balm. He needed it right now. He needed to think.  
  
They didn't think he could do it. They thought he was weak. Not strong enough to handle things. Weak. Thought he had to have help. Couldn't do it by himself. Weak. So he was right, after all.  
  
Hate to say I told you so, bud, but...  
  
Shut up.  
  
Hey, I tried to warn you. I told you I wouldn't interfere, everything was yours now. That's what you wanted, that's what you got. Everything.  
  
I didn't mean...  
  
Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the Marines, bud. You can't handle it. You are weak. I told you that. You can't fight off the pictures, can you? Can't even tell Murdock they aren't flashbacks. Don't have the guts to tell them what they really are. Well, now you've heard from your 'team'. They know you don't have the strength. They know you're weak. You ain't even a real part of the team any more, because you can't handle it.  
  
No, Hannibal said I was a member as long as I liked.  
  
Yeah, and he never lies. Right.  
  
He doesn't. Not to me.  
  
Sure, bud. And I got this bridge in Brooklyn.  
  
Face didn't respond. He stared at a rabbit, grazing amid the clover blossoms. Free. That's what that rabbit was. Totally free. Nothing to think about except the next blossom.  
  
That's what you want, eh, bud? To be free, right?  
  
Yeah...No. I want to be free of those things. Not everything.  
  
No, you want to be free of everything. You know you do. Everything you can't deal with, which is damn near everything. Weak.  
  
No.  
  
Yeah. C'mon, bud. Accept it. You can't function without me. Look what you've done since I took my siesta. Nothing.  
  
That's not true. I'm walking now. I got rid of that chair.  
  
Big whoop. Look folks, walks like a man, talks like a man - got everybody fooled now, huh, bud?  
  
Why do you hate me?  
  
I don't hate you, bud. I hate your weakness. Drives me nuts when I know I could solve your problems if you'd just let me...I can help you, kid. I want to help you.  
  
Face watched the rabbit. It was getting further away, concentrating on the next blossom.  
  
C'mon, kid. I really do care, y'know. I may be a bit harsh with you, but I've got your best interests at heart. It's just frustrating when I know I can make it better for you. For both of us. You just gotta let me.  
  
You hurt people.  
  
Just to keep you safe, kid. Think about it. That's all I've ever done, try to keep you safe.  
  
The rabbit was blissfully munching on the clover, bees floated from flower to flower, a large bird floated overhead; the whole meadow was peaceful. Not a care in the world.  
  
No hurting anyone.  
  
So help me.  
  
Face sighed. They were right. He was weak. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face those images. Not any more. Not without him.  
  
Ok.  
  
You won't be sorry, kid.  
  
The hawk started its dive.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock stood watching his friend. He had wandered - that really was the only word for it - out into the meadow, where he inevitably seemed to go anymore. And then just stood there. From the distance that he stood from him, Murdock could hear the voices and it unnerved him. Hannibal had told him about it, the day Face had gone to confession, after that night of panic. Murdock had heard enough people talking to themselves, having strange conversations, in his years at the VA. It shouldn't have bothered him. But it did. This was Face, his best friend. And though he couldn't hear the actual words, the timbre of those two voices shook him. Face was being bullied, rebuked, having a hard time fighting back. Murdock started moving closer.  
  
Face kept watching something out in the meadow as he - they - talked. Without warning, a hawk barreled down from the sky, hitting something out in the tall grass. A high pitched scream came from the grass; almost immediately the hunter climbed back into the sky, a rabbit still struggling in its talons. Murdock looked away; laws of nature or not, he didn't like things like that. He looked back at Face.  
  
Face was watching the bird haul away its prey. He was grinning.


	60. Chapter 60

Hannibal was on the phone with a contractor. An old client who would be discreet. Some old habits died hard in Hannibal. Free men or not, no one needed to know what would be going on at the farm. He'd spoken with the landlord; the price was a bit steep but manageable. Thanks to Face's financial expertise it was do-able. The paperwork was being drawn up now. By the end of the month, the farm would be theirs. The day after closing, the contractors would begin work renovating the barn. He'd been promised all would be finished within a few weeks after that.  
  
He really wished he could have had Face deal with all of this. Face could probably have gotten the farm for relatively next to nothing. And the contractor, ex-client or not, was going to be a nightmare of details and decisions. That, again, had been Face's forte. Hannibal wouldn't have had to think about any of this. And it would have come out exactly the way Hannibal wanted it.  
  
Maybe this was all premature. What happened when they started getting clients again? He had to consider Face. They couldn't leave him on his own, not yet. Maybe never. They never knew exactly what might set him off. And right now, he seemed to be falling back, losing ground to those damn flashbacks. They had to find some way to deal with that. They had to find a way to deal with a lot of things when it came to Face.  
  
Well, things would come together. Hannibal would make sure of that. The farm, the team, Face. He would make it all work, somehow. After all, that's what he did best.  
  
*****  
  
"Face, what are you doing? Are you okay?"  
  
He swung around to the pilot. He hadn't heard him coming up behind him. Gotta watch that. And he had to watch what he said, too. How he acted. If he weren't careful, Murdock would know immediately that things had changed - and why.  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking. Need to get my head on straight again." He smiled, that ingratiating little smile Face had. "Sometimes I just need a little fresh air to clear the cobwebs."  
  
Murdock was looking suspiciously at him. How much had he seen? Heard?  
  
"I thought I heard you talking to someone."  
  
"Oh," he grinned sheepishly, "just thinking out loud. Sometimes it helps get things clearer."  
  
"Sounded like a pretty heated conversation."  
  
Pretty blatant there, Captain. Don't get too smart.  
  
"Conversation?" he chuckled. "I guess you could call it that. But nothing heated about it. I just bounce things around, try to figure out what's going to work best." Murdock was putting him on edge. Better lay off, guy. Not the time to start pushing me. "C'mon, let's go grab something to eat. For some reason, I'm starving." He headed back to the house, leaving Murdock standing.  
  
He would have to take it easy for a couple of days. Didn't want to be too 'normal' - not yet. It would grate on him, playing Face, but he didn't want to blow it now.  
  
What do you mean, 'blow it'?  
  
Nothin', kid. Relax. I'll take care of you. Just like I promised.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock watched Face closely the rest of the day. If it aroused his suspicions, he didn't really care. If he was right, a confrontation was needed ASAP. But he still wasn't sure. He kicked himself for not moving closer to Face earlier so he could have heard exactly what was said. He was 99 percent sure this wasn't 'his' Face; that grin at the death of the rabbit had convinced him. But if he was wrong, forcing Face into a corner could be disastrous. Whatever had happened out there, this Face seemed more confident, and already Murdock could see that his reaction to the flashbacks had changed.  
  
If Hannibal noticed anything that day, he said nothing to Murdock about it. He'd been busy on the phone most of the day, discussing details of the barn remodeling with the contractor. Murdock was torn between keeping an eye on Face and trying to keep Hannibal from going overboard with his planning. They were still a long way from being able to take on clients. The pilot had to wonder what plans Hannibal had in mind for Face while they were gallivanting around doing good deeds. He hadn't forgotten that hospital hell. Realizing that would never happen again didn't assuage his uneasiness about the future.  
  
*****  
  
He wasn't really happy right now. He was discovering a few things he didn't like. For one thing, he was much physically weaker than he'd thought. It took him by surprise that he hadn't been aware of that. Face must have had him closeted away tighter than he'd realized. Occasionally he would find his knees buckling for no reason. He was forced to grab whatever was close by to stay upright; sometimes it was Murdock or Smith. He didn't like that one bit. The first time he'd had to grab Murdock's arm he'd almost shoved away but caught himself in time. Face was dependent on these guys. They were used to that. So he'd have to play along, irritating as it was. He made up his mind to get this body back in shape. Quickly.  
  
The other thing he'd found was that he wasn't in total control of the visions. He had much more control than Face, certainly. He was stronger. He could lessen them, or make them stronger, as he had in order to teach Face a lesson. But he couldn't get rid of them. That bothered him. He wasn't horrified by the gory images as his counterpart was; it took a certain kind of fantasy-type imagination for that and he didn't possess one. But the total lack of reality in them was irritating. He wanted to make them stop simply because they gave him a headache with all the movement and lack of clarity. Like an out of whack kaleidoscope. He could see where Face would be heading off the edge seeing those constantly. Well, he'd certainly done his share to make them that way. Now he'd just have to live with it for a while, until he figured out how to make the damn things go away completely. He just had to make sure he didn't get lost in them the way Face had.  
  
He sometimes thought about Face. He wasn't much for introspection; it interfered with the job. He really didn't treat Face very well. It wasn't so much that he disliked the guy. There were just things about him he couldn't stomach. Mostly the things that had caused Face so much trouble since the job for Stockwell. Guilt, for one. Face felt guilt. He didn't. Why feel guilty for doing something you had to? Or for sacrificing someone else to save your own skin? Especially when that someone else was bound and determined to kill you? Then again, there wasn't much of anything he did feel guilty about. Waste of energy.  
  
Yeah, Face's biggest problems were emotions. And scruples. Guy had too many of both. His buddies thought differently. Thought Face was the smooth con artist, ladies' man. Which Face had been, when he'd been allowed to have some say in it. But he'd been kept within Face's boundaries. Was allowed to go only so far. That had grated on him at times. But back then Face had acknowledged how much he was needed. He'd kept Face from making a lot of mistakes with the ladies. And from getting his head blown off in Nam. The two of them really had worked well together. A team within a team. Stockwell had changed that.  
  
Face couldn't deal with that job. No way. How many nights had the guy lain awake, wishing he could just end it all? Would have, too, if he hadn't stepped in. Face had let him take over. Almost completely. And then, when it was all over, he'd learned to love the freedom he had when Face wasn't there to contain him. So he'd conned the con man. Made it practically a holy mission to take Stockwell out. So Face had let him stay in control. It had been hard to give that up.  
  
Something had gone wrong upstairs, otherwise he never would have given up that control. Face had gotten stronger, the longer it went on. Face didn't like what he was doing and let him know it. In spades. Man. If Face ever realized just how much strength was still there, he'd be history. In fact, he could feel Face trying to surface every now and then. Wanting to put the brakes on. Not this time, bud. As long as he kept away from Murdock. Murdock was trouble. He could reach Face, bring him out. That emotional thing again. Friendship. Blew him away, man.  
  
Then again, he did kinda miss how well he and Face had worked together...


	61. Chapter 61

Hannibal watched anxiously as Face went through yet another flashback. He'd come out to the barn, where Hannibal had just finished talking with the contractor, going over plans. Everything had been fine for a while. Face seemed to be taking a real interest in the renovations. Which was good, and bad. Good, because any time he took an interest in anything besides sitting in the meadow it was a positive step. Bad, because Hannibal had not yet figured out how to tell him he was going to be a part-time member of the team, if that. He didn't want to get him all enthused about something only to pull the rug out from under him.  
  
Then the flashback started. Hannibal immediately knew something was different. Face wasn't letting it drag him down this time. He got that faraway look in his eye, and he started sweating, but the terror wasn't there. Not at all. Instead, there was almost an anger present. He got stiff, his body started trembling - again, not with fear but with what seemed to be effort. And then it was over. Hannibal grabbed Face's arm as the force of the sudden relaxation made him stagger. He looked at Hannibal, smiled tiredly.  
  
"Okay, Face?"  
  
"Never better, Hannibal." He carefully disengaged Hannibal's hand. "I'm fine, really." He ran his hand through his hair, collecting himself. "So, what's going over here, then?" he asked as he moved further into the barn. Flashback dismissed.  
  
Hannibal watched after him. Whatever Murdock had said to Face, it was working. Almost too well...  
  
*****  
  
"What'cha doin', Face?"  
  
He shuddered. If he heard that cheerful chirpiness any more today he'd probably shoot himself. The man would not leave him alone. Always around, always wanting to help, always so fuckin cheerful! The only time he left him alone was if Hannibal was around.  
  
He had intended to sneak off to the far end of the meadow and start a real workout. None of that namby-pamby shit Hannibal and Murdock had 'allowed' Face. Afraid of overdoing. Good God. At any rate, that was out now that the pilot had shown up yet again.  
  
"Hello, Murdock. I was just going to go for a walk. Not too far."  
  
"Okey-dokey. Great day for some fresh air. Billy could use a run, anyway."  
  
Shit. Now he was bringing the damn dog, too. Why Murdock suddenly decided to resurrect Billy he had no idea, but it drove him nuts. Standing around petting the air like it was a real fucking fur ball. Maybe he oughta take an imaginary Magnum to it. See how Murdock liked his version of 'let's pretend'. He almost laughed at the imagined look on the pilot's face.  
  
Murdock grinned at him. "Something funny, muchacho? Or just in a good mood?"  
  
"Just a good mood, Murdock."  
  
"Oh, good. Well, let's go! C'mon, Billy..."  
  
How the hell had Face put up with this guy all these years? Not with any help from him...  
  
****  
  
Murdock hoped he was doing the right thing. If this were ‘their’ Face, no harm done. Face had almost always gone along with Murdock’s flights of fancy. And he’d liked Billy. But if this wasn’t Face, Murdock was playing with fire. Who knew what would happen if he pushed this guy too far? And how far was too far? But it was the only way Murdock knew of flushing him out.  
  
He hadn’t said anything yet to Hannibal. Which could be a problem if he had to work Face in front of him. He’d want to know why Murdock was suddenly acting nuts again. Either that, or he’d just start worrying about him and Murdock didn’t want that either. He wanted Hannibal to think things were going smoothly for a change. So he'd tried to steer clear of Hannibal. If it looked like his ‘cover’ was going to be blown, he’d take Hannibal aside and explain things. Otherwise, he’d see how far he could get without getting the shit kicked out of him.  
  
He loped ahead of Face, letting Billy run full out on his leash. If he were going to make Face think Billy was back, he’d better start thinking that way himself. Besides, it was kinda fun having a dog again...  
  
*****  
  
It had been over a week and he was ready to kill them all just to get some peace and quiet. Murdock had been on some kind of manic rampage. Constantly with the damn dog. Then it was the pastry chef. What a mess. Face had actually played along with this shit all these years. The guy had more guts than he’d given him credit for.  
  
Today he was going to get away from that madman. For at least a few hours. He was going to have Hannibal drop him at the church for some ‘private’ time. No way the pilot would get involved in that. And once Hannibal had dropped him off, he had his own plans.  
  
He’d found where they’d stashed the weapons in the basement. He’d had to pick the locks on more than one chest before finding his. He couldn’t take the rifle, of course, but the Sig Sauer P210 was easily concealed. Maybe Face couldn’t handle guns anymore, but he could. Could, would. Loved the feel of it in his hand. His left hand, unfortunately. Not as comfortable, not as accurate. That would change. Oh yeah. That would definitely change.  
  
Why do you need that?  
  
I told you, bud. Protection. For you. For us.  
  
No.  
  
What, you want me to have to break their necks every time? How often will I get that close?  
  
How often are you planning to kill?  
  
He sighed. He knew this was going to be a problem. Face was really pushing him now. Really pushing. Much harder than even he had expected. He pushed back.  
  
Don’t make this a contest between us, bud. You’ll lose. Big time. Guaranteed.  
  
You promised.  
  
Yeah, I promised to protect you.  
  
From the visions. That’s all.  
  
Listen, bud, consider this a tradeoff. I get something I want, you get something you want. I don’t feel comfortable walking around without something. I feel naked, you know? Give me a break.  
  
No. I...  
  
No! No more argument, bud. You gave up, remember? Came running back to me like a sniveling little kid. 'Help me, help me'. S’okay, now I’m runnin the show and this is the way it is. Unless you want your little blood filled dreams back.  
  
Silence. Good. Back to business. He shoved the Sig under his shirt in his waistband and snapped the lock back in place. No one would know the difference. No one would look in that chest. That was all Face’s stuff. Good as gone. He quietly made his way back upstairs. He had to find Hannibal and get a ride to the church.  
  
*****  
  
"He wants to go where?"  
  
"To church. I'm going to run him over there and he'll call when he's ready to come back."  
  
Murdock gulped. This was not good. For a number of reasons. One, the Face he thought he'd been targeting wouldn't go near a church. So either Murdock was wrong, or this was a ruse. Two, whether it was or wasn't the real Face, Carla was still out there. No telling if she'd accepted defeat or not. This was the argument Murdock used to try and convince Hannibal not to allow it.  
  
"Look, Murdock, I know it's taking a chance. I already talked to him about that. He promised not to leave the church and to call when he was done. He won't be anywhere she could get at him, if that's what she's planning. Even Carla wouldn't pull anything in a church. He'll be fine."  
  
"What if he has another flashback? Who's gonna take care of him then?"  
  
"I've watched him with those lately, Murdock. So have you. He doesn't need 'taking care of'. He's learned how to handle them. And the priest and staff will be there if he does need help. Look, I know you want to make sure he's okay, Murdock. I do, too. But we gotta give him some space, too. Give him a chance to be a little independent now and then. And the Church is important to him. We can't deny him that - or the privacy he needs for it." Hannibal looked closely at the pilot, waiting for something else. "Okay?"  
  
Reluctantly, Murdock agreed. He didn't like it. Not one bit. But you didn't argue with Hannibal when he'd made up his mind.  
  
*****  
  
He gave Hannibal a quick wave as he headed up the steps into the church, stepped inside and waited. Seconds later he heard the car pull away. Immediately he was back out the door, headed at a fast walk for the surrounding hills. He had to be a little careful; he still wasn't 100 percent, but his secret workouts were doing the trick. It wouldn't be long.  
  
Within minutes he'd come to a thick grove of trees. He quickly checked the perimeter. Good. Completely isolated. He scrounged around for various materials to use, setting them up in a line along an embankment on the far side. Standing a good 50 yards from them, he pulled out the Sig. It was definitely awkward holding it in his left hand, and the first few shots went into the dirt, either behind or below the targets. Damn. This was going to take some time. A lot of time.  
  
But then, what else did he have?


	62. Chapter 62

"No, don't worry about a thing, Molly. It'll take a couple of days, but we'll be there...No, not a problem. I'll call you and let you know...Okay...okay. Talk to you then."  
  
Hannibal hung up the phone, stared off into space. He hadn't intended to take on any clients yet. Not for some time. Too many complications. He looked toward the barn. Face was engaged in an animated discussion with one of the subcontractors. Almost too animated. Hannibal sighed. Face had made gargantuan steps in his recovery, but there were things he just couldn't quite manage yet. Keeping his temper was one of them. Hannibal tried to be casual as he hurried over.  
  
"What's going on, fellas? Problem?"  
  
"No, no problem, Colonel. Except this jerk thinks he can charge us for lumber he hasn't used and has no intention of using." Face was clenching his left hand hard, a sure sign he was ready to blow.  
  
"Hey, I tol you it was on order. Soon as it gets here I'll be usin it, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, just not on this job, right, bud?"  
  
"Okay, okay." Hannibal stepped quickly between the two men. "Face, why don't you take a look at the bills that came in this morning, huh? Just double-check the figures. They're on the desk." Face gave both men a dangerous glare, but stalked off toward the house. Hannibal turned to the contractor. "My guy doesn't make mistakes, fella. You try ripping us off, I'm going to put that lumber where you'll never use it again - got it?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, yeah, sure, I, uh, I coulda made a mistake there, lots of jobs going on. I'll take care of it, no problem." He rushed off to his truck and tore down the drive. Hannibal grinned. Until he remembered the phone call.  
  
Someone had been calling Molly and her husband, Joe, making threats against their home and lives. Told them not to go to the police. During the last call, the person - Molly couldn't tell if it was male or female - told her she shouldn't pick up hitchhikers. Which made no sense to her. Only once had she ever stopped for someone on the road. Grasping at straws, she had called Hannibal.  
  
Obviously, there was a problem. Not just the threats. The reason for them. Why would anyone threaten a lower-level administrative assistant? Or her husband, the dock supervisor at a local warehouse? This couple had nothing of significant value, had no 'in' to corporate secrets, no enemies of the caliber to warrant such action. No, there was obviously some other reason. And Hannibal figured it was called 'bait'.  
  
Now all he had to do was get BA out here, settle Murdock down - who for some reason had gotten back into some of his old behaviors - figure out what to do with Face, and then chase down the bad guys.  
  
Piece of cake.  
  
*****  
  
"You sure you want to take on a client now, Hannibal? I mean, what you gonna do about Face? You even told him he ain't on the team any more?"  
  
"BA, I never said he was off the team. I just said he can't go on any jobs with us. There are other things he can handle for us. And no, I haven't talked it over with him yet. I'm going to do that tonight. As far as the client, I don't think she's the real target. I think we are. Carla's got her hand in this, BA."  
  
"Man, Hannibal, are you sure? What's she want to keep comin after us for, anyway?"  
  
"Well, I guess she's still mad at Face, BA. Some people just hold a grudge. We need to show her the error of her ways. So can you get out here right away?"  
  
"Yeah, gimme a couple days." There was a long pause on the other end. "You still ain't said what your gonna do about Face."  
  
"Well, he doesn't really need anyone to take care of him any more, just needs someone around, just in case. He can stay at Maggie's."  
  
"He can't stay with Maggie. No way. You gonna have to think of somethin else."  
  
"What? Why can't he stay with Maggie? She won't mind."  
  
"No, Hannibal. He can't. Look, we can talk about it when I git out there. I'll be there in a couple days." BA abruptly hung up.  
  
Hannibal stared at the phone. What the hell was that about?  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was no happier about the prospect when Hannibal told him.  
  
"Hannibal, we can’t do this now. We just can’t."  
  
"We hardly have a choice, Murdock. We can’t leave Molly and her husband hanging out to dry. You know as well as I do that Carla’s involved in this. Who else would know about her and Face? Or would go after them without any reason? We got her involved in this, we have to get her out of it."  
  
"I know that, Colonel, but we can’t up and leave Face here. He’s not...stable enough yet."  
  
"Not stable enough? What the hell are you talking about, Captain? I haven’t seen him doing this well since the whole damn thing started. Yeah, he’s got a few problems yet, but if he stays at Maggie’s, she can keep an eye on things so they don’t get out of hand."  
  
"I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Hannibal. He’s, well, he’s...just not predictable. And you’ve seen his temper. I’d hate to put Maggie in front of that."  
  
Hannibal knew Murdock had a point there. Face had gone from complacent and relatively easy to manage to volatile and sometimes nearly violent. It didn't take a genius to hook that up with the way he had suddenly started dealing with the flashbacks. He looked Murdock in the eye.  
  
"That why you've been a bit on the 'wild side', Murdock? Molly's guy is back, isn't he? Since when?"  
  
Murdock sighed. "Since that last really bad flashback. I tried to talk to him, to let us help him. Instead I think he gave up and turned to this other guy. Mr. Tough Guy. I thought if I started acting like I used to, it would irritate him to the point of doing something. And then Face - our Face - would have to come back."  
  
"Or you'd get yourself killed. That was a dumb thing to do, Captain. Especially without telling me." Hannibal chewed on his cigar. "Does BA know about this?"  
  
Murdock shook his head.  
  
"Then there's something else going on as well. BA insisted that Face couldn't stay with Maggie while we were on this job. Immovable. Wouldn't say why, said we'd talk when he got out here. Know what that might be about?"  
  
"No, but something's wrong between those two. Been that way ever since Face hit Maggie. I didn't think he really blamed Face for it, but he really turned cold toward him after that."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. "Well, he'll be here day after tomorrow. We'll keep an eye on our friend out there for now. Maybe BA's coming is just what we need to get things back in kilter around here." He grinned wickedly. "It could be a very interesting homecoming."  
  
*****  
  
He'd been a bit surprised when Hannibal had agreed to letting him use the car to get to 'church'. Apparently the Colonel was more than satisfied with his progress the last few weeks. He was now more or less free to come and go as he pleased, as long as he 'checked in' first. Just in case, as Hannibal put it. Hmm.  
  
Life was good now. He had the freedom to go out and practice without questions. And it was doing wonders. Hannibal had brought him in on the renovations; he'd basically taken over that operation. A few confrontations with the hired help but that was all straightened out now. No more problems there. He grinned. Hannibal was so naive sometimes. He'd let those guys walk all over him. Funny. But then Hannibal had asked if he'd look over the bills, too. He was no good at that. So he'd had to let Face come out for a while. Let him do his little bookkeeper crap. Then back in the box. He chuckled. Yeah, he had him well trained now.  
  
Is that what you call it?  
  
Hey, just a turn of phrase, bud. Don't worry about it.  
  
Right.  
  
Sometimes Face actually came close to his own brand of sarcasm. Sometimes, Face actually sounded like him. Gave him a headache. He reminded himself not to get sloppy. Face had things he could still use - if he remembered them.  
  
Have to make sure he didn't. Definitely.


	63. Chapter 63

He had borrowed the car again that afternoon. He hadn't actually told Hannibal he was going to church. Just asked to borrow the car. Hannibal had hesitated only for a second. Long enough to let him know that something was amiss. Had the pilot said something to him? Possibly. Probably. With BA coming back, he might have felt it was time.  
  
They hadn't told him right away that BA was coming back. He'd overheard Hannibal talking to him on the phone. He kept track as much as possible of all the people Hannibal talked to. He'd thought about bugging the phone, but that seemed extreme. At this point, anyway. He'd paid special attention to Hannibal's discussion regarding Face and the team. Face wouldn't like that; still had dreams of a full recovery, getting back with the team as if nothing had happened. Even with the hand. Right. Despite what Hannibal told BA, the colonel still hadn't talked to Face about it. He wondered when they intended to drop that bomb.  
  
Then he heard Hannibal tell BA about having Face stay with Maggie. That's when he realized BA knew what had happened. Mama must have told him. There were a lot of interesting possibilities playing around in his mind. When BA left, he'd thought Face didn't remember anything of what happened with Maggie. Was that still the case? Well, he could make sure BA thought Face knew. Wouldn't be that difficult. After all, he knew, and all he'd have to do is let BA see that. And make sure BA knew that he wasn't sorry about it. Which he wasn't. Face would have been horrified. Not him. So let BA know and then let things play themselves out.  
  
BA would probably tell Hannibal. Yeah, that would be good. Kill two birds with one stone. That would just leave the pilot. He'd have to think about that one for a while. Murdock's loyalty to Face was phenomenal. Much stronger than the other two. He'd often wondered about that. But then, Face had a lot more in common with the pilot than the other two. More than the others, including Murdock, knew. He'd definitely have to work on that. It would be much much tougher to crack that alliance. But it was do-able.  
  
If he played this right, if he planned it properly, he wouldn't have to worry about Face remembering any of those little secret weapons he had. In fact, he might not have to worry about Face remembering much of anything at all. He smiled as he pulled up in front of the bar. He had some new friends to meet...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal watched the car maneuver carefully down the drive and out of sight. He had a bad feeling about letting Face take off; since talking to Murdock, he was more than a little suspicious about where he was really going. Like the pilot, he didn't see this Face going to church. He wondered where he'd been going all this time, what he'd been doing. He wished he had another vehicle to use, one that Face wouldn't know about. He'd like to follow and find out a few things. He'd let his emotions take over too much. Let himself believe Face was getting better, blinded himself to things he should have seen. That was over.  
  
He thought about this Face. He didn't even know what to call him; in his mind, he couldn't call him Face. He found himself just referring to him as the 'guy'. It was as civil a term as he could use. He remembered that first time they had met up with him - with Molly. Ironic. Thank God Murdock had been able to deal with him. God only knew what might have happened to Molly - or any of them - if he hadn't. And that night when Face was so terrified that the guy was coming back. So sure he couldn't handle him on his own. And again, it had been Murdock that had finally gotten rid of him, for whatever reason. What was it about the pilot that made the guy back off?  
  
He was glad Murdock hadn't confronted Face yet. He didn't want that to happen until BA was here. He didn't think Face was up to par physically but then he didn't have to be. Not with his training. And he'd already shown how easily he could take Murdock, even with only one good hand. And after several months of relative inactivity, Hannibal wasn't all that sure of his own abilities in a physical match up with him. He sighed. A sure sign of the toll these months had taken on his own confidence. No, he definitely wanted bulk and muscle around when the confrontation came. And it would come. It had to. No way was he going to let this guy keep Face. No way.  
  
*****  
  
It had been a most pleasurable interlude for him. And productive. Lot of gullible people in these rural areas. With a surprising amount of spending money. At least they did have. He grinned happily. He now had several investors in his pocket - not to mention their cash. He wasn't sure exactly what they had invested in; neither were they. But it sounded great, so everybody was happy. So good to be back in the action.  
  
He had a nice little buzz going. Long time since he'd had that much to drink. During his past meetings with these dupes he'd nursed the booze, wanting to make sure he stayed on top of things while getting back in the groove. Today he'd celebrated with them. Had to be careful, though. Hannibal probably would not be happy with his little lieutenant imbibing. No, the good colonel was quite sure he'd been doing whatever at the church. Oh, yeah. Quite the little choirboy. He laughed out loud. God, life was good!  
  
He pulled the car up to the garage, carefully. No point in advertising. He stumbled just a bit as he got out of the car. Careful, fella. Wouldn't be very dignified to land flat on your face. He chuckled. Flat on my Face. Love it.  
  
Uh oh. Suck it up. Hannibal acting as his welcoming committee. Good ol' Dad. Thinks he's gonna ream me a new ass, huh? Don't push it, Colonel. Face might have taken a tongue lashing from you - not me. Go ahead, do your thing. Me, I'm hitting the rack. BA's coming later. Gotta be ready...  
  
*****  
  
BA pulled into the driveway late in the night. He hadn't called before arriving. He was tired and tense and just ornery enough to let the alarms wake them up. To his mile-worn mind, they should have known he would be arriving and should have been awake anyway.  
  
Having to come back here was grating on him. And the reason for coming back - Molly and Carla - was only a small part of that. It was Face. Accept it. He didn't know what he was going to do when he saw him again. All the anger and distrust was surfacing once again, as strongly as it had that morning when Mama told him what Face had tried with Maggie. Didn't matter he'd had a fever. Face wouldn't have done it unless it was in his mind to begin with, was BA's thinking; he didn't care what Mama said about it.  
  
Hannibal was the first one he saw coming out of the front door, armed. Murdock came running out right after. Also armed. He should've thought about that. He could've gotten himself shot coming in like he had. Well, they should have recognized the van right away anyway.  
  
No Face.  
  
"BA! Why the hell didn't you call us first?" Hannibal had put down his shotgun, and angrily pulled a cigar out of his shirt pocket.  
  
"Jus wanted ta get here, Hannibal. Sorry." He didn't sound at all sorry as he opened the van, pulled out his bags. Without another word he walked past the two men and into the house. After a moment, they followed.  
  
Face watched from the corner of the house. He'd heard the alarms, grabbed his gun from under his pillow and slipped quietly out of the door to the back yard. He watched as the van pulled up to the house and his teammates gathered. Smiled.  
  
Almost time for the opening curtain.


	64. Chapter 64

Murdock watched from the doorway, unsure whether he should intercede or not. Hannibal had already decided to observe. Let things play out as they would. Murdock didn't think that was necessarily good. One man near exhaustion, the other still under the influence, both with a nasty temper that flared easily. So Murdock waited, anticipating. And hoping he wouldn't have to get in the middle of whatever happened.  
  
BA had barely stepped through the door when Face came out of the kitchen. He was still dressed. His right hand was casually tucked into his waistband, partially hidden. He looked BA in the eye, and there was something about it BA didn't like. It was almost like he was challenging BA.  
  
"Hey, BA. Welcome back, bud."  
  
The insolence in that voice was almost more than BA could take. That smirk on his face as he leaned arrogantly against the door frame. BA glared at the man before him, so unlike the Face he had left weeks before. This was the Face that had gone after Maggie. He could see it like he'd been there. He spoke low. He didn't want the others to hear before he talked to them.  
  
"Outta my way, you little bastard. I know what you did. Don't think I don't. But now's not the time. Later."  
  
"No problem, bud. Anytime you're ready."  
  
BA stared at Face. What the...? Face, telling him he would take him on? Why that little...  
  
"Your room's all ready, Big Guy." Murdock was at his side, almost in front of him, creating a barrier between him and direct contact with Face. Okay. It would wait. But not for long.  
  
BA shoved past both men and stomped up the stairs. Face watched him go with a bemused look. Turning back to Murdock, he smiled openly. Winked at him. Stepped back into his room and closed the door.  
  
Murdock looked at Hannibal. They both knew this was going to get ugly.  
  
*****  
  
What happened? Why did BA say that? Why is he so angry at me? What's going on?  
  
Don't panic, bud. Man was just in a bad mood.  
  
Bull! What did you do?  
  
Nothing, man. The dude's got a problem.  
  
A problem with me? Why?  
  
Hey, just don't worry about it. He'll get over it, kid.  
  
He'll get over what? Tell me!  
  
Okay, okay. Just remember - it's not your fault, kid. Look, I overheard Hannibal talking to BA on the phone. Asking him to come back here for a client...  
  
A client? Hannibal didn't say anything to me about a client.  
  
I know. I'll get to that. But anyway, he's talking to BA, trying to get him to come back. But apparently he don't want to come back.  
  
Why?  
  
He sighed, heavily. Laying it on.  
  
Well, I got the impression that BA had had it with you, kid. He was tired of all the problems. Apparently he blames you for Mama getting so worn out. That's why she had to leave so sudden. She was having problems. Health problems. Nothing serious, just worn out from taking care of you for so long.  
  
No...  
  
Yeah, well, like I said it wasn't your fault. I mean, it was her choice to stay on, right?  
  
Why didn't Hannibal tell me?  
  
Hey, not to rain on you parade, kid, but Hannibal doesn't tell you a lot of stuff. Like this new client.  
  
What...what's that all about?  
  
Some family having trouble with harassment. Nothing big. But Hannibal didn't want you to know about it.  
  
Why not?  
  
This was good. He could hear the total confusion in Face's voice. The hurt. It was working.  
  
Well, kid, y'know, you're not exactly up to snuff yet. I mean, that's why I'm here, right? But Hannibal, he don't quite trust you. Afraid you'd fall apart on him, know what I mean? He didn't want to take a chance that somebody'd get hurt 'cause you couldn't hold up your end.  
  
I...I would have understood. I mean, I know I'm not ready yet. He could have told me.  
  
Yeah, yeah, he could have. But he didn't. Cause he's not ever gonna let you in on a job again. He doesn't think you'll ever be ready. He doesn't trust you, kid. Plain and simple. Like I said, there's a lot of things he's not telling you.  
  
Silence.  
  
Hey, don't worry about it, kid. I got your back. I'll always have your back.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was up bright and early the next morning, as usual. He sat in the living room, watching the door to Face's room. Walked to the stairway, waiting for BA. Walked to the kitchen. Coffee. Past Face's door. Back to the stairs. Sat in the living room. He wanted to talk to BA before the two men met up again. Whatever was bugging BA was serious. Serious enough that he'd been close to an outright fight the first time he saw Face again. It had nothing to do with the guy. It hadn't mattered.  
  
And the guy. Getting drunk yesterday. Not even trying to hide it. Walking out when Hannibal got on his case. Giving him that look. The same look he had given the contractors. The look that said back off or else. What was going on there? Why, after so long keeping up the facade, had he chosen now to let the cat out of the bag? Because BA was coming back and he knew things would come out anyway? Or was there something else going on? Where had he been going all this time? What had he been doing?  
  
He heard steps coming down. Murdock. He looked like hell this morning. Probably about what Hannibal looked like. He watched silently as Murdock wandered into the kitchen, came back with a cup of coffee. He sat on the couch opposite Hannibal, glancing at Face's door.  
  
"Nobody else is up yet."  
  
Murdock nodded. They were both tense. They needed to talk to BA before he and Face got into it again. They had to be prepared for what might happen, and why.  
  
Face's door opened. He stood there for a moment, looking at them. Without a word, he proceeded into the kitchen, returning, like Murdock, with a cup of coffee. He didn't appear to have any afteraffects from his partying the day before. Again, without a word, he returned to his room. A few minutes later they heard the outer door open and close. They caught a glimpse of him walking casually out toward the meadow. That in itself was interesting. He never went out there any more. Murdock looked questioning at Hannibal, who shook his head. One problem at a time. This morning they needed to talk to BA.  
  
Twenty minutes later the big guy came lumbering down the stairs, directly into the living room. He looked at Hannibal, then Murdock.  
  
"You ready to talk?"  
  
Both men nodded and the three of them headed for the library. Closing the doors behind them, they arranged themselves as comfortably as they could.  
  
"Okay, BA. Let's have it."  
  
And BA let them have it..  
  
*****  
  
He didn't care for the meadow that much, but he was feeling mellow toward Face this morning. He'd taken quite a hit last night, poor guy. Mama's 'health problems' laid at his door, BA angry with him because of that, Hannibal planning on kicking him off the team - a lot of shit for him to absorb. He hoped Face was up to it. Right.  
  
Of course, that was nothing really, when he thought about what was coming. He knew BA was in there now, laying it all out for Hannibal about Maggie. Face wouldn't know what hit him. Possibly literally. He wondered what Hannibal would do, really. Would he be super-understanding and blame it on the fever, the way Maggie had, and let it go? Or more like Mama? Understanding but letting that color the way he felt about his lieutenant? Or go BA's way? Total reflex. Had to be one of the latter two. He knew Hannibal too well to think he'd just let it go. Not where Maggie was concerned.  
  
Yeah, this was going to work out just fine. BA already on the other side. Hannibal would be close if not there by the time BA finished with him. Face himself was feeling the old abandonment blues, coupled with a lovely little streak of guilt. And when they came at him about Maggie, it would be totally out of left field. Total confusion. Yeah, it was a very good start. He just had to deal with the pilot now.  
  
He had considered leaving Murdock out of it, thinking the loss of BA and Hannibal might be enough to force Face inside for good. But that was like leaving the last terrorist alive. You don't take that chance. Different objective, same reasoning. Take no chances, take them all out. And the pilot would know about Maggie now, too. It was a little thing, but a start. Add enough other little things, and pull Face out at the right times, and Murdock would be lost to Face as effectively as the other two. Wouldn't matter if Murdock really thought that way. All he had to do was convince Face he did. Piece of cake.  
  
Yeah, he was feeling mellow toward Face this morning. He could be generous. He let Face out to enjoy the morning.


	65. Chapter 65

Hannibal stared out the library window. One part of him wanted to go kick the shit out of that asshole; another part wanted to run to Maggie and apologize. Yet another part wanted to just shut out the whole world. Too much had gone wrong. One fucked up thing after another. He could understand now why Face had hidden the way he had. If Hannibal thought it was bad for him, it had been a hundred times worse for Face. But now...now all he could think about was this guy talking to Maggie that way, and grabbing her, and hitting her. His Maggie.  
  
But not his Face.  
  
He had to remember that. He had to. This had not been done by his lieutenant. Face would never, ever do something that reprehensible, especially not to Maggie. Face didn't even know that anything had happened. He'd tried to tell BA that; so had Murdock. They tried to tell him what had happened over the past few weeks, how the other guy had taken over again. That it had to have been 'him', not Face, that did this to Maggie.  
  
But BA didn't buy it. Face had done too many things, way too many things, that everyone said he would never do. As far as BA was concerned, enough was enough. He wanted Face off the team, off the farm, away from anyone and everyone the team cared about. Send him back overseas. That's where he belonged. That's where he fit in now. After BA knocked the crap out of him first.  
  
As Hannibal started calming down, he started thinking about that. Maybe, God forgive him, but maybe that was what needed to happen. Not literally. But this guy hadn't tasted defeat. Not real defeat. He'd had to make some strategic retreats, but he'd never really been routed. He'd always come out in one piece. And always came back, usually stronger. So just maybe it was time for him to pay the piper. Hannibal just had to figure out how. The only problem was, Face might have to pay right along with him. But if they could save him in the long run...  
  
Murdock just sat. Totally still. He knew something had set BA against Face, but this...No wonder BA had looked so murderously at him last night. No wonder he and Mama had left so abruptly. But Maggie. She had acted as if nothing had happened. She had continued to work with Face, and talk with him like nothing had happened. Never had one look, one word, even hinted that there was a problem for her. Granted, she hadn't been alone with him since the other guy had come back. But that didn't matter. What mattered was before. He clung to that like a life preserver. If Maggie, the one with the real 'right' to hate Face, could look past what he'd done, then so could the rest of them. She realized it wasn't Face who had done it. She knew it. Murdock knew it. Hannibal must. BA would have to.  
  
He had to talk to Maggie. He had to bring her back here to talk to BA and Hannibal. She had to tell them what happened and that she was still okay with Face. That she didn't blame him. That they shouldn't. Yeah. He would go and get her right now. She would bring them around. Without a word to the others, Murdock hurried out the door. Neither BA nor Hannibal paid any attention.  
  
*****  
  
Face stood in the meadow, soaking in the sun. He had to get back, somehow. He had to talk to BA, to Hannibal. Try to make amends. Somehow. He just didn't know how. Not any more. Everything was so jumbled up in his brain. When was the last time he'd really been in control of his thinking, his actions, his life? His life - almost never. Someone else always calling the shots. The Church, the Army, Hannibal, the 'Deckers', Stockwell. Stockwell. Damn his soul. If he'd had one. Thinking about him made Face angry, terribly, terribly angry. He felt the anger building, flowing through him, energizing him. That's what he needed. Energy. Anger.  
  
Slow down, bud. Ain't your time any more.  
  
Oh, I think it is, 'Bud'. I think it's time I came back. Get this fucked up mess straight with BA and Hannibal.  
  
No, you let me handle it. Like always.  
  
No, not like always. I let you help, that's all. I never let you handle things on your own. Not until Stockwell. And he's dead. He's not going to ruin my life any longer. Neither are you.  
  
The blood started rising up from the meadow floor. Face steeled himself.  
  
You're not going to win this time. I can handle fake blood. That's all it is. Fake blood.  
  
The blood kept rising, faster. Up over his ankles now.  
  
It's not real. It's just you.  
  
Up to his knees in blood. He could feel the wetness on his skin. Body parts started drifting by.  
  
Fake. Fake.  
  
Waist deep. Warm and thick. Rising faster and flowing stronger. Hannibal swept by, sinking...  
  
Fake...  
  
Up to his chest. The sky a sickly pink, reflecting the ocean of red. BA's jewelry, caught on an arm drifting by...  
  
It's not...real...  
  
Murdock. Murdock standing on the side. Away from the blood. Reaching for him. Too far...  
  
Not...real...  
  
He was drowning. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Drowning in the blood.  
  
...not...real...  
  
He tried to pull up to the surface. Clawing through the blood. It was too thick. Too heavy. It sucked him down into the depths.  
  
Told ya, bud. Not your time any more...you don't have them any more...all you got is me...  
  
*****  
  
"You gotta tell 'em what happened, and how. You gotta make 'em understand, Maggie. Or Face is gonna be in big trouble. Please."  
  
It took Maggie only seconds to drop her jacket on the desk. She made one quick phone call to her only scheduled patient and was headed out the door before Murdock realized she was leaving. He hurried to catch up to her. Slamming into the driver's seat, he roared out of the drive and headed for the farm. Maggie sat stone-faced beside him. She didn't want to talk about what happened, but damn if she was going to let BA or Hannibal harm Face for something he'd had nothing to do with.  
  
Murdock flashed through the gates of the farm, setting off the alarms. No one came running out of the house. He didn't like that. Hopefully it meant they knew it was Murdock returning. Hopefully it didn't mean they were out with Face. Hopefully...  
  
*****  
  
Face had tried and failed once again. He'd put up a strong fight. But Face had kept that thought - that he'd lost BA and Hannibal. So he lost the fight, as expected. Murdock had almost saved him again, but Face was too desperate to realize it. Too late now, bud.  
  
Time for the second act. He'd seen Murdock leaving. Didn't know why but it was opportune. Without Murdock there to defend him, Face would be wide open for BA and Hannibal. All he had to do was push the right buttons. And he knew exactly which ones they were.  
  
He moved quickly toward the house. Hannibal must know by now. Murdock wouldn't have taken off before BA could tell them about it. He stepped into his room through the outside door. Glanced at his bed on his way through. Should he take the gun? No, didn't want to go that route. Not unless he had to. He'd been preparing for this for weeks. Knew BA's weak spots. And Hannibal's. Practiced for them. Practiced for this whole little scene. Not only the moves, but when to give Face what he wanted - out. One hell of a surprise waiting for him this time.  
  
BA and Hannibal were coming out of the library. He looked at Hannibal. Barely concealed anger. Ah, he was trying to give Face the benefit of the doubt. Wasn't working, was it, Colonel? Good. And BA - he looked squarely into those thunderous dark eyes. He stayed calm. Cool.  
  
"Ah, BA. I believe you and I have some unfinished business." Smiled.  
  
"Later." BA started to move past him. He stepped directly in the big man's way.  
  
"Now."  
  
"Face..." Hannibal, trying to diffuse things. Forget it, colonel.  
  
"It's okay, Hannibal. BA only wants to defend a certain lady's honor. A very nice lady. Very nice." He made the words slither from his mouth. No mistaking that tone. He watched Hannibal carefully. Yeah, worked beautifully. He knew exactly how the Colonel worked. There would be no interference.  
  
He wasn't watching him so closely that he missed BA's move toward him. He sidestepped without seeming to.  
  
"Outside, BA? Less damage that way."  
  
"Only damage is gonna be to you, sucka. Lots of it."  
  
He smiled at BA. Walked calmly but briskly toward the door. "Sure, BA. Sure."  
  
The three men stepped out into the sun. What a beautiful day it was going to be.


	66. Chapter 66

BA expected a couple good hits and Face would be down. The cocky little S.O.B. would learn he wasn't going to get by with this crap any more. BA was gonna teach him but good.  
  
That's what he expected.  
  
What he got was a professional. Someone who knew every trick BA knew, SF trained, Nam hardened. Who had learned a few tricks over the years. Who liked baiting his quarry. Who had no fear, no compunction to hold back. Who used assumptions about a 'useless' hand to his advantage. Quick. BA was quick. This guy was quicker. Like a terrier going after a Rottweiler. What BA expected was short and easy.  
  
What he got was hit. And hit hard.  
  
Intimidation - a big part of BA's repertoire and something that had always worked with Face before - was useless now. The usual single hard hits that would take out an opponent easily, missed. BA realized that Face knew how he fought and was taking every advantage. That made him mad. Real mad. He started changing tactics. Moved to street fighting. His fists started hitting their mark, at least partially.  
  
His opponent was a fast learner, changed his own maneuvers, hits getting harder, faster.  
  
Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, Face looked at him, sweating but grinning. A glint in his eye. Like he was enjoying it.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal felt like he was in some kind of surreal movie. He was following BA and 'Face' like a cameraman. He could almost see the slight camera movement as it focused on their backs moving to the back yard. He should stop it. He didn't want Face hurt. But a little part of him really wanted to see the other guy's ass kicked. A big part of him, actually. The part thinking about Maggie. So he held back. When it was over, when this guy was battered down, then he'd move in. What BA had done physically, Hannibal would do mentally. They'd beat this guy and then get Face back.  
  
They squared off, 'Face' actually grinning. BA scowled. He was here to teach him a lesson; 'Face' was acting like he was having fun. Ridiculous. Hannibal knew he was going to get creamed. Was he so far gone he didn't realize that? Was that why he'd pushed for this? Because he'd finally gone totally over the edge? BA took the first swing, missed, and the ridiculous joke ended. The grin vanished. Dead serious now. But something still there in his eyes. That exultation Hannibal had seen at the Christmas tree lot. Hannibal remembered now - he was dangerous.  
  
BA hadn't seen it. He started out as if he was going to take 'Face' easily. He took a couple more swings, which should have connected and downed the lieutenant. They missed completely. 'Face' wasn't where he was supposed to be. Ever. He seemed to know exactly what BA was going to do before he did it. Under different circumstances - no, under any circumstances, it was pure art. Despite himself, Hannibal found himself watching in admiration. Unbelievable.  
  
Both men were wringing wet with sweat. BA had some noticeable bruises and cuts. 'Face' had barely been touched. He was bouncing on his feet, grinning like a hyena, a bit of blood running from his nose and lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. Never had Hannibal imagined that Face could take on BA like this. But maybe that was because their Face didn't have the confidence this guy had. Their Face relied on his quick wit and fast mouth to get out of fights. This guy had taken on terrorists single handed. Face avoided fights unless there was no choice. This guy loved violence. It was a completely different scenario than either he or BA had imagined.  
  
*****  
  
He could feel the energy surge. Electricity. Tingling. His kind of Jazz. Yeah. This was what he'd been preparing for. The showdown. Taking on BA Baracus. After years of his threats against Face, after years of toeing the mark for fear of displeasing him, years of being made to feel like a jerk because Face always backed down. Talk about killing two birds with one stone - BA and Face in one shot. Not that he was going to kill anyone. That would defeat his purpose. Knowing he could was enough. Knowing that no one would be able to stop him if he wanted to, that Face couldn't do anything about it unless he let him, that he was in total control of what happened. Having that power. It was better than drugs and it flowed through him like dam bursting.  
  
He grinned. You don't intimidate me, Big Guy. Nossir. BA took a couple swings at him. He ducked them easily. He knew BA's style. Went for the quick hard punch, didn't like sparring. Well, tough, bud, that's what you're getting. He bounced out of the way a couple more times, backed off, made BA think he was retreating. He pounced instead, getting a couple good, heavy hits on BA's cheek and eye. A little blood. Saw him blink in surprise. Didn't hurt him much. Hadn't tried to. Wanted him off balance. The hurt would come soon enough.  
  
He watched him getting madder and madder. Good. BA was an excellent fighter, but his big problem was his temper. If he lost it, his fighting didn't actually get sloppy, but it wasn't as controlled, or as effective. BA changed his tactics. Got in a couple glancing blows. That's okay. Got your number now, Big Guy. He came right back at him, hitting faster and harder. Time to show you what I can really do. Faster, harder. In. Out. Combining hits and kicks. He was hurting him now. He knew where, he knew how, and when was whenever he wanted. No Face holding him back. Nothing holding him back. Nothing. You're mine, Baracus, all mine. Watch me. Find out what's been waiting in here for you all these years.  
  
He was sweating buckets but it felt good. Damn, he hadn't felt like this since overseas. Even Houston wasn't this good. But now it was time. Time to bring Face out. Time for his surprise.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal saw it. Something was wrong. Something about the guy...suddenly he didn't look so sure of himself. He'd hesitated for just a fraction of a second, come back looking...confused? Something different...God, it wasn't him anymore. It was Face. Their Face.  
  
"BA!"  
  
The alarms were going off. Intruders? Shit!  
  
"BA! The alarms! Stations!"  
  
*****  
  
Face stared at the man in front of him. What the hell had happened to BA? And why was Hannibal looking at him so strangely? Where was Murdock? He was sweaty and tired and his hands - both of them - hurt like hell. What was going on here?  
  
He jumped at Hannibal's shout, only now aware of the alarms. And just as suddenly, the alarms stopped. Murdock came running out of the back door, Maggie right behind him. Face was totally lost. I don't understand this at all.  
  
Don't worry about it, bud. This is going to work out better than I'd hoped.  
  
What do you mean?  
  
Just wait, bud. Just wait.  
  
Maggie ran up to Face. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"  
  
"I...I don't think so. I..."  
  
"He's not the one you need to look at, Maggie. BA's got some good cuts there..." Hannibal was angry. "He did a pretty good job on him."  
  
Face wasn't the only one staring at Hannibal now. Murdock and Maggie looked from BA to Face to Hannibal.  
  
No way. I didn't do that. BA would kill me before I laid a hand on him.  
  
You had a little help, bud. You can thank me later.  
  
What...?  
  
"What's going on here, John? What kind of bull-headed stunt are you pulling now?"  
  
"Don't you go blamin Hannibal, Maggie." BA was starting to calm down. He looked at Face through swollen eyes. "I had it in mind to do this for a long time. It jus happened to come down today."  
  
"And you just stood by and let it happen? And just whose side were you rooting for?" Maggie was glaring at Hannibal. Obviously she had no intention of spreading the blame.  
  
"Hey, I tried to stop it. Your buddy over there insisted we go through with it." Hannibal gestured angrily at Face.  
  
What? Now he was really confused.  
  
"If you had jus told us what happened that night, we coulda dealt with it then. He'd'a been gone."  
  
"There was no reason for him to be gone, BA. He didn't do anything wrong!"  
  
"Talkin dirty to you and hittin you for defendin yourself ain't wrong?"  
  
Talking dirty to Maggie? Hitting her? I hit Maggie? I did that?  
  
"He was out of his head with fever, BA. Good Lord, how thick headed are you? You've never been delirious before?"  
  
"I never did nothin like that!"  
  
"What about you, John? Were you going to take your turn at him when BA was finished?"  
  
"I had a plan. Nothing physical. But we need to get rid of him once and for all."  
  
"What? Get rid of him?"  
  
Oh, God...  
  
"You don't understand, Maggie..."  
  
"Damn right I don't understand, John Smith. What is going on with you people? How could you..."  
  
"It's not what you think. If you'll just calm down for a minute I can explain..."  
  
"That's going to be some explanation!"  
  
Face had been backing slowly away as the argument raged. Don't want to be here. Not now. Not any more. He couldn't believe what he'd done. Now he understood why BA was so angry. Not just Mama. It was Maggie. He remembered the ugly bruise on her face. How neither she nor Hannibal would tell him the truth about it. Wouldn't tell him that he was the bastard that had done that. And now they had finally had it with him. It took BA coming back to make them realize the mistake they'd made not getting rid of him back then.  
  
Hey, don't worry about it, kid. I'm not leaving you. We can make out just fine, just us. Right?  
  
They wanted BA to beat the shit out of me.  
  
Yeah, well, that didn't happen, did it? Kinda gave 'em a surprise there, kid. I wouldn't let them hurt you, kid. No way.  
  
"Face!"  
  
Face jerked around, startled. Murdock was running after him. The others were still talking. Arguing. He was tearing the team apart. Just being there.  
  
"Face!"  
  
"Go away, Murdock." Face was tired. Worn down. He didn't want to talk.  
  
"Face, listen to me. I know it's you, Face. It's not that other guy now."  
  
I can shut you down right now, bud. Get rid of him.  
  
"Please, Murdock. I don't know what happened back there, but I know why. I'm leaving. That's what they want."  
  
"No, Face, no! That's not it at all. They don't want to get rid of you - it's him! He's the one they want out. They just want you back - our Faceman! Not that cold blooded snake you gave up to."  
  
"What?"  
  
Enough, bud! Get rid of him. Now. Or I will.  
  
No, no, you won't.  
  
"Face, we can't let you go. You're part of the team. Face, you're my friend! My best friend!"  
  
Face suddenly felt hope. It made sense. All the things Hannibal and BA were mad about - he hadn't done those things. He hadn't. The bad stuff only happened when he gave up control. When 'he' showed up. He had to take that control back again. Even against the blood.  
  
Can't let you do that, bud.  
  
"Murdock! Stay with me! Please!" How had he fought him off before? He'd gotten angry - had taken the energy from the anger. He didn't have that now. He had to have help. Murdock.  
  
"I can't do it alone. He'll bring on the blood..."  
  
"I'm staying, Face. I'm here." Murdock didn't know for sure what Face meant by the 'blood', but he had a good idea. The flashbacks. He knew then that that's how the other guy had come back - he'd used those to control Face. Only now Face was asking for help. Things would be different now. He grabbed Face's arm.  
  
"You fight him off, Face. You can do it. We can do it."  
  
Nice knowin you, bud. You're goin far far away.  
  
"No. No, I'm staying. I'm staying..."  
  
Murdock took a quick glance back at the yard. Hannibal and BA were slowly walking toward them.  
  
"Guys! C'mon! Hurry!"  
  
Hannibal glanced up at them. Recognizing instantly what was happening to Face, he started running. BA, still reluctant to deal with this whole crazy 'other guy' thing, wasn't in such a hurry. Not to mention he hurt like hell. But he kept heading toward them.  
  
"He's trying to fight him off, Hannibal, but he needs help."  
  
Nodding, Hannibal put his hands on either side of Face's head, making him look him square in the eyes.  
  
"Listen to me, Lieutenant. You're not going anywhere. Understand? We're gonna get rid of this guy so you can have your life back! We are going to get rid of him. It's not just your fight. We are with you, understand?"  
  
Face nodded as best he could with Hannibal's iron grip on him. Hannibal could see the fear still in his eyes, the doubt.  
  
He's lying to you again, bud. Can't you see it? He don't want you! He woulda let Baracus beat the shit out of you! I stopped him! I did!  
  
"You fight, Lieutenant! Like you've never fought before! I'll be right there with you!"  
  
The blood was raining down on him, on all of them. Torrents of it. He focused on Hannibal's eyes. Help.  
  
"BA! Get over here!" Hannibal wasn't asking any more. It was time to end this shit.  
  
BA reached them, hurrying at Hannibal's tone. Looking at Face, he hesitated only a second. He put his great arms around Face, almost encompassing Hannibal and Murdock at the same time. He would go along with it. He had to. He'd seen the real Face now. He held on as tight as he could without squeezing the breath out of him.  
  
"You ain't gonna let him win this time, Face. Or you answer to me! Now get rid of that sucka!"  
  
Face felt the energy building. He was taking it from them. From the team. They were giving it to him. Helping him fight. They wanted him. Not the other guy. He'd made a mistake, giving in to him. He wouldn't do it again.  
  
The blood was running off all of them now. Face choked on it but he refused to give in.  
  
Let go, bud. Just let go. I took care of you, man. I did. All those months over there. You owe me. You owe me!  
  
No! I don't want you here any more. Never again. Never again!  
  
The blood was thickening. Face fought back the panic. Looked into Hannibal's eyes. Felt Murdock and BA holding on. Fight it. Fight it. I can win now. I can win...


	67. Chapter 67

Murdock stepped quietly into the kitchen. Maggie was working on BA, who sat stoically enduring the disinfectant. Hannibal was watching his cup of coffee get cold. All three looked up as Murdock came in.  
  
"He's still sleeping. Seems okay." Hannibal nodded, went back to watching his cup. They were all subdued, drained, numb. When it had seemed that Face was faltering, Hannibal had demanded he tell them what he was seeing, so they could 'fight it' together. It had shaken them all. Not flashbacks at all. Living horrors was more like it. No wonder he'd brought the other guy in. No one could understand where they had come from. Why they were so vivid and real to Face. There was still a lot for them to talk out. Right now, they all wanted to just forget about had happened. Just for a little while. They'd had a major victory today but it felt like they'd lost a war.  
  
There was still the problem with Molly and her husband. Hannibal needed to call her later that day. They would have to go over and talk to them, get the details. Tomorrow. No one was going anywhere today. Besides, they had a lot of work to get done before bearding Carla again. She was being much more devious this time. She hadn't learned her lesson yet, but she was getting smarter about how she attacked.  
  
They'd just have to be a little smarter.  
  
*****  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Made contact that one time. Nothing since. Baracus showed up late last night. Some strange activity at the farm this morning."  
  
"What do you mean, strange?"  
  
"Captain Murdock left rather quickly early in the morning, returned approximately 40 minutes later with Dr. Sullivan. Security alarms ran for several minutes. She's still there. Possibly Peck?"  
  
"Probably. I'd like to know what that's all about. Check with the field, see if they got anything."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Oh, and give our little friend another call. I want some activity there. No, on second thought, no call. Pay a visit. A little social call. Nothing major - just something to get the ball rolling again. Try using a little imagination. Have some fun with it."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
*****  
  
He'd been lying awake for quite some time now. He wasn't quite sure what to do about this. He'd rolled over, shoved his hand under the pillow, and there it was. He recognized it just by the feel. Didn't know where it came from, how it got there. Didn't want to know. Didn't want it there. He'd pulled his hand back out, rolled over on his back, stared at the ceiling. Now he could feel it through the pillow. His head was resting on it.  
  
He could tell one of the guys. They'd take it away. But then, they might start wondering, too. That could go a couple different directions. On the one hand, they might figure 'he' had put it there and that would be it. On the other hand, they might start wondering about Face. That was a whole other story. He wanted back on the team. Fully. But guns...he didn't know. That's what they'd be thinking, too. If he asked one of them to take it away, they'd know he still couldn't deal with it. No missions. If he didn't tell them, and one of them found it, they'd wonder if they could trust him. Crazy man with a gun hidden under his pillow. Not exactly reassuring. Not exactly the kind of person you'd take on a dangerous job.  
  
He sighed, deeply. Nothing's ever simple.  
  
*****  
  
Molly called before Hannibal had a chance to call her. Someone had been at their house. Their dog - no, not hurt. Shaved. A clown-like ruffled collar put on him. No, the neighbors hadn't seen anything. Joe was at work, she'd made a 15, maybe 20 minute run to the store. Came back and found the dog.  
  
Hannibal was seething. Carla had people close to Molly. Too close. Probably too close to the farm, too. Which meant they knew about Maggie's trip here this morning. Did they know about Face? Had they been close enough to see what went on? Damn. If they had, it opened up the vulnerability. It also meant they wouldn't be able to leave Face alone here, even with Maggie. He could be a target. Hell, maybe he was the target. They'd have to renew their perimeter checks. It would be easier now that BA was back. He'd have to do something about Maggie, too. He'd give Hank a call, anonymously. Make a threat against Maggie. That way Carla didn't have to come into the equation and Maggie would have some protection. Frequent pass-by's by the local sheriff would give Carla second thoughts on that quarter. Better let Maggie know what was going on or she'd cause problems. Didn't want her telling Hank to forget it.  
  
Okay, he'd make the call to Hank and talk to Maggie. He'd have BA load enough weapons for caution's sake and have Murdock get Face up and moving. He could sleep in the van while they talked to Molly. Stop. Rethink that. It took Carla's people 15 minutes to subdue and shave a dog. Face would come in with them. Hopefully it wouldn't spook Molly too much. Or Face. Hopefully Joe wouldn't be there. Didn't need that complication either. Damn.  
  
*****  
  
BA came in shortly after Face woke up. He felt embarrassed now, ashamed. He shoulda known better. He'd known this man for twenty years. He shoulda known better.  
  
Face, on his part, felt sorry for what he had done to BA. But it was mixed, he had to admit, with just a bit of pride, too. To think that he, even if it wasn't really him, had been able to take on BA and win. He felt a little stirring inside. Oh no. Don't go there. Don't go near there. Remember what you did to your friend, Face. Forget the damn pride.  
  
The two men looked at each for a moment.  
  
"Face..."  
  
"BA..."  
  
Stopped. Smiled at each other. BA nodded.  
  
"S'okay, Face?"  
  
"S'okay, BA."  
  
BA slapped Face's uplifted hand as he walked out. 'Nough said about that.  
  
*****  
  
"I don't like it one bit, John. Not one bit."  
  
"I know you don't. I don't either. But I can't see any way around it. Both you and Face could be at risk if you stayed here alone. Or at your place. I want Hank on his toes while we're gone."  
  
Maggie crossed her arms, shaking her head. "I'm not worried about me, John. I've lived in a small isolated town long enough to know who belongs and who doesn't. And I'm not exactly out in the middle of nowhere. My concern is with Face. I don't want him stressed. He may have gotten through this last incident, but he's still not 100%. Not any where near it. Seeing this woman again - and possibly running into her husband - could be a problem."  
  
"I know that, Maggie. I'm going to make sure there's as little contact as possible between Face and Molly. I don't believe her husband will be there, but if he is, I'll handle it. Believe me, Maggie, I don't want to do things this way, and I wouldn't if I could keep him safe any other way."  
  
Maggie sighed. "I know, John. I just wish he could have a little time. I don't want to see everything he's accomplished now get destroyed."  
  
"Don't worry, Maggie. I'll take care of him. We all will."  
  
Maggie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a small smile before heading in to see the object of their concern. She knew there were things they needed to talk about.  
  
*****  
  
"Hello, Face."  
  
He sat up a little straighter on the bed. Maggie. This was going to be hard. He still wasn't prepared for this.  
  
"Maggie. Uh, look, I'm really sorry...no, that's not good enough...I...God, I never meant..."  
  
"Face. Settle down. You don't have to apologize. For anything."  
  
"I knew you hadn't fallen. I wish you had told me...earlier."  
  
"What good would that have done? It wouldn't change what happened and it would only have caused you unnecessary aggravation." She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, not sure if he would appreciate the close proximity or not. "Look, Face, you've made a major step here. You have a chance to start over, with me, with Hannibal, with the whole team. I don't want you to be dragging a lot of baggage into that with you. Take that fresh start and work it for all you're worth. Okay?"  
  
He sighed. Hannibal was a lucky man, if he'd realize it. "Okay, Doc."  
  
Maggie smiled at him, and breezed out the door. Both felt a little lighter of heart.  
  
*****  
  
They were in the van, rolling down the highway toward Molly's. From the moment they pulled out of the drive, Murdock kept clearing his throat, staring at the back of Hannibal's head. No one had told Face where they were going yet, just that they were meeting with a client. No one had mentioned Carla. No one had told Face a damn thing. But then, he hadn't asked, either. Didn't seem to have any curiosity about the client at all. Studiously uninterested, one might say. But they should warn him. Soon.  
  
"Ahemmm."  
  
Hannibal turned around and glared at him. Murdock nodded his head toward Face, raising his eyebrows. Hannibal continued to glare at him. Murdock shrugged, looked at the ceiling. Hannibal sighed.  
  
"Uh, Face, about this client..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, it's Molly."  
  
"Molly?" Face smiled. "Does she have a last name?"  
  
"Huh? Uh, yeah, Dana. Husband's name is Joe. Joe and Molly Dana."  
  
"Okay...what's their problem?"  
  
Hannibal glanced at BA. He knew Murdock was watching Face. He showed absolutely no recognition at the names.  
  
"They've been getting threatening calls. Someone came to their house today and shaved their dog."  
  
Face frowned. "Doesn't exactly sound like something we'd get involved in, Hannibal."  
  
"Well, we think Carla's behind it."  
  
Dull silence.  
  
"Carla?"  
  
"Yeah. I think she's using Molly and her husband as bait for us."  
  
"Well, who are these people to us, that Carla would think they'd work as bait?" Face's voice held total confusion.  
  
"Molly's the woman you hijacked, Face."  
  
Murdock watched Face as he suddenly developed an obsession with the scenery.  
  
Wonderful.


	68. Chapter 68

"Report?"  
  
"Nothing on the reason for Dr. Sullivan's arrival. Captain Murdock took her back to her office this afternoon. Seems to be additional law enforcement activity around her neighborhood since then. All members of the team left in the black van approximately 27 minutes ago. Heading in the general direction of the Dana's."  
  
Additional law enforcement activity? Had Smith recruited the local constabulary? She knew they were on fairly friendly terms. Apparently they felt Dr. Sullivan might be in some danger. Hmm. Hadn't considered that on any realistic terms, but it did open certain possibilities. She'd keep it in mind, depending on how this operation went. Interesting, too, that they took Peck with them. She hadn't expected them to include him on a mission. She would have considered him too much of a liability. Especially of late.  
  
She'd had ample opportunities to get at Peck over the past few weeks. Smith had seemingly given the man free rein to roam all over the countryside. He'd visited a lot of rather unsavory places over that time. She'd been surprised at that. She'd made one attempt to bring him in; her people had failed miserably. He caught the tail almost immediately and lost them in the back roads. He hadn't seemed to care if he was followed, as long as they didn't get too close. In fact, he had seemed to enjoy dragging her people around. She couldn't quite figure out what was going on with him. She would find out. Eventually.  
  
In the meantime, she needed to be near the Dana's house. Just in case. Always just in case.  
  
*****  
  
BA pulled the van into a parking space a block behind the address Molly had given them. Face was to go with BA around to the north, Murdock around to the south. Hannibal slid quickly along a driveway and across the Dana's back yard. Within moments the others joined him at the back door. Face was looking a bit pale, out of breath. Hannibal looked at BA, who nodded back. He was keeping an eye on him.  
  
Hannibal knocked at the door. He had a feeling this day was going downhill fast. Joe answered the door. If there was a stereotypical warehouse worker, Joe was it. He and BA could have been salt and pepper twins. Hannibal had a little hope of salvation when Joe welcomed them in with a soft, almost cultured voice. Rough looking, soft spoken. Okay. He could deal with that.  
  
Joe led them into the living room, where Molly was sitting in an overstuffed chair in the corner, drumming her fingers on the arm. Hannibal was somewhat amused to see that she did not appear worried or distraught as much as angry. Their dog, apparently feeling embarrassed at his nakedness, was laying curled behind the chair. He looked to be a golden. Must have been beautiful before...  
  
Molly locked eyes with Face almost immediately.  
  
"What's he doing here?" Not a good beginning.  
  
"What's the matter, hon?" Joe apparently didn't catch the connection.  
  
"That's the guy that got us into the damn mess."  
  
Joe looked at Face. Face looked at Joe. BA looked at Joe. Joe looked at Hannibal.  
  
"I think I would just as soon not have this man in my home, Colonel Smith."  
  
"He's with us, Mr. Dana. He's part of the team" Trading formalities. Establishing the ground rules. Joe Dana didn't work that way.  
  
"Then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to leave. We'll handle this on our own."  
  
Hannibal had just opened his mouth to start asking for details. He stood with his mouth open for just a moment, nonplussed. He'd never run into a situation like this before.  
  
"It's okay, sir." Face stepping forward. "I'll leave, no problem. I would like to offer my sincere apologies to your wife, and to you, sir. I never intended any harm to you or your family, and I'm sorry you're having to go through this because of me and my actions." He nodded to Maggie and Joe, and immediately walked out of the room. They heard the back door close.  
  
"BA." The big guy was already heading out. Hannibal turned back to the Dana's.  
  
"Okay, let's get one thing straight right now. That man is a member of my team. If he's not welcome in this house, we'll meet somewhere else from now on. What happened to your wife was bad, I realize that. But he was not himself, and I personally do not appreciate having his actions at that time held against him now. He's here to help you just as much as the rest of us are."  
  
"But you still have to have a babysitter with him." Molly was sarcastic, still angry. She had been forgiving when she thought that whole episode was behind her. Now, not only had it come back to haunt her, others were being involved.  
  
"BA is not babysitting. He's guarding. Face is more of a target for this person than you are. I guarantee you that." He glared at both of them. Joe had the grace to drop his eyes and sit on the couch. Molly glared back for a long moment before looking angrily out the window. She saw BA talking to Face. It didn't appear that the younger man was paying much attention. She remembered that faraway look and it made her shudder.  
  
"Let's get this over with, please."  
  
Hannibal and Murdock sat down to get the details.  
  
*****  
  
"Face, you okay, man?"  
  
"Yeah, BA. I'm fine." He didn't look fine. He was staring off into space again. Damn.  
  
"Face, you seein them things again?"  
  
"A little, BA. A little..." He shook himself. Closed his eyes. Deep breaths. He opened his eyes, looking at BA. "I'm okay. Really."  
  
"You wanna go wait in the van? Sit down?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, maybe I should. I got a bit of a headache..."  
  
"Okay. Hang on." BA hurried to the front door, gave Hannibal a quick heads up as to their whereabouts, and came back to Face. "Let's go."  
  
They walked slowly around the block to the van. BA got the idea Face wanted to talk, but was reluctant to begin. So BA kept his pace slow to match, giving him time to work up to it.  
  
"BA..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Hannibal didn't intend for me to be in on this job, did he?"  
  
Oh boy.  
  
"Well, I think he wanted to give ya a little more time before gettin into things again, so I guess, no, he didn't intend it."  
  
"It's all kinda foggy to me. Did I...hurt her?"  
  
"No. Scared her bad, but you didn't hurt her."  
  
Face watched his feet taking steps. He felt like he was just drifting along with the body.  
  
"I fucked up a lot of things, didn't I?"  
  
BA glanced at him. "Wasn't your fault."  
  
"Right."  
  
They were almost to the van.  
  
"How long does he think will be long enough?"  
  
Damn. He wished Face would ask Hannibal this stuff.  
  
"I don't know, Face. Jus have to take things as they come, see how they work out."  
  
"So maybe never."  
  
"Can't say that, Face. You know that. You heard him in there. You're part of the team. You ain't gonna get kicked off. Jus may be doin different things than you used to. And that may only be for a little bit. Jus don't know yet."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, don't get down, now, Face. It'll work out for ya. For all of us. Jus gotta give yerself some time. Don't push when you ain't ready yet. Ok?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They didn't speak again. When they reached the van, BA took a careful look around before getting in. Face was already in his seat, head back, eyes closed. BA looked at him for a long moment. Things weren't gonna be easy. Not for a long time yet.  
  
*****  
  
"Ma'am?"  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Shall we take him? He's pretty much out in the open. Baracus as well."  
  
"No. No, I think we'll let him go on for a bit." She watched the black van from their own, still listening to the conversation taking place in the Dana's living room. Just stating what she already knew. It had been that first little conversation she had found most engrossing. Nice little speech the lieutenant made. Smith, too. Interesting. Interesting, too, that Baracus was sticking to Peck so closely. The dynamics going on here were complicated. They were still very protective toward Peck. So he wasn't out of the woods yet. She smiled at that.  
  
Their clients were very antagonistic toward Peck. Understandable. And convenient. That could be worked. Very nicely. The Dana's were Smith's only lead to her. And Mrs. Dana held a pretty hefty rock over their heads. Kidnapping. Possibly attempted murder. Get her angry enough, scared enough...who knows what she might do with that rock.  
  
All in all, a very productive afternoon...  
  
*****  
  
The drive back to the farm was pretty quiet. It only took Hannibal about 10 minutes to go over what had happened with the Dana's. After that, no one had much to say. They didn't have much to go as to tracking down Carla. It grated on Hannibal that they would have to wait for her next move. One of them would have to stick close to the clients if they were to have any chance of locating her again. And that meant one less at the farm. Damn.  
  
Murdock was watching Face like a hawk. Which wasn't really necessary as he seemed to be asleep most of the way back. Once back at the farm, Face almost immediately headed out to the meadow. It was clear by the way he hurried from the van he wanted no company. Murdock followed at a discreet distance.  
  
"They didn't exactly make things pleasant for him, did they? Can't say as I blame them, though." Hannibal lit a cigar as they watched the other two men disappear.  
  
"It ain't only that, Hannibal. He's worryin about his place on the team again. Thinkin he messed up a lot of things. He knows you didn't want him in on this one. And no, I didn't tell him that." BA scowled at Hannibal. "He figured that out hisself. So now he's wonderin if he's ever gonna get back on. One other thing." BA hated to bring it up, but Hannibal needed to know. "I think he had another of those spells, after he left the house. It was short and he got through it, but I don't like it. He gets tensed up like that, it brings them things on. That ain't gonna help him get back on the job. We gotta figure out some way to stop 'em before they start."  
  
"Yeah, I know, BA. I know." Hannibal closed his eyes. "There's something he's not telling us yet. I don't know why, but until he comes clean with whatever it is, those things aren't going to stop."  
  
"Yeah. I been thinkin 'bout that. He never really told us anything, y'know? Everything we know, we found out almost by accident. Maybe we need to set him down for a long talk, Hannibal. Whether he wants to or not."  
  
"Yeah. But not yet. I don't think any of us are ready for that just yet." Or when we will be...


	69. Chapter 69

Face sat on the bed, staring at the pillow. It was still under there. He hadn't moved it. He hadn't told anyone about it. He kept thinking about Molly. He needed to make amends. He'd changed her life, her husband's. They were in this mess because of him.  
  
He reached over, touched the pillow. Laid his hand on it. Slowly slid his hand down the pillow and under the edge. Stopped. Closed his eyes. Slid his hand over the pistol grip. Held it there. He was starting to sweat. Slowly his finger edged over the trigger. Stopped.  
  
The blood started rising.  
  
He yanked his hand out from under the pillow. Hurried in to the kitchen where Murdock was fixing lunch. Sat at the table. Focused on the pilot. Concentrated on him.  
  
Slowly the images started fading away.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was in the middle of trying a new recipe. He'd decided the food fare had been getting rather bland lately and this was some kind of Cajun gumbo. Some of the spices the recipe called for he didn't have, so he was trying to figure how much more to add of the ones he did have. Gumbo, soups and stews were just a matter of volume, really. It all blended together anyway.  
  
He noticed Face come hurrying in and sit at the table, but then he didn't say a word, just watched him. Closely. That probably wasn't good. Murdock didn't say anything either, just cast a few cautious glances his way. He looked a little pale, and his forehead was damp.  
  
"Problems again, Face?"  
  
He didn't answer, just kept watching Murdock. Okay. He put down the spoon, wiped his hands off and sat down at the table with Face.  
  
"Still there?"  
  
Face barely nodded. He was starting to relax a little. Murdock knew that was a good sign. He put his hand on Face's arm, squeezing slightly. A couple more minutes and Face relaxed into a more normal position.  
  
They sat for a few more minutes before Murdock got up and casually started back on his gumbo. Face was still watching him but not so intensely.  
  
"So, something in particular set this one off?"  
  
"No..." Face started drumming his fingers on the table. If he told Murdock about the gun, what would happen? He had to tell someone. He'd have to have help with it. If he told Murdock - no, if Murdock wouldn't help him, he'd end up losing the gun. Now he had to have it. He had to help Molly. Maybe he could do it another way.  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
The pilot turned, looked at Face with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, Face?"  
  
"I need a favor. A big favor."  
  
"If I can, I will, Face."  
  
"I need...I need a gun."  
  
Murdock stopped dead. "A what?"  
  
"A...a gun." The words came rushing out now. "I need to learn how to shoot left handed. So I can get back on the team. So I can help Molly." He took a deep breath, slowing himself down. "I need a gun."  
  
Murdock forgot about the gumbo. He sat down at the table again, looking closely at his friend. "Face, are you sure? I mean, you weren't exactly comfy with them, last I saw."  
  
"You won't help?"  
  
"Well, don't you think we should talk it over with Hannibal first? I mean..."  
  
"Why? He doesn't have to know. Not right away. Maybe I can't do it. Ok? So he wouldn't have to know anything about it. But, if I can do it, then...well, we can tell him then. Ok?"  
  
Something wasn't right here. Why wouldn't Face want Hannibal to know about this?  
  
"Face, what's going on?"  
  
Face swiped his hand through his hair. "Nothing, Murdock. Look, just forget it, okay? It was a dumb idea. Just forget it." He stood and strode out the door, headed, as usual, for the meadow.  
  
Murdock looked after him. He wished Hannibal were here, instead of over at Molly's with BA. Was somebody trying for yet another comeback? Or had he already?  
  
Murdock felt the anxiety levels rising. Gumbo. Think about the gumbo.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal could kick himself. BA stood before him, holding three bugs found during the first 15 minutes he'd been in the house. How in hell had he overlooked that possibility? Out of practice. Out of sync. Relied on BA too much. BA had gone after Face that day. Hannibal hadn't thought about it. Stupidity.  
  
"Okay, BA. Let's find out if there are any more."  
  
They searched carefully, quietly and thoroughly. Five more were found, including a tracking device on each vehicle. BA carefully dismantled each one.  
  
"How much d'ya spose they heard?"  
  
"We didn't make any plans while we were here before. But they probably heard Molly and Face. I don't know what they could make of that, but it's more than I wanted them to know. Well, damn it, can't be helped now. We'll just have to let Molly and Joe know. Someone will be here from now on, so they can't replace them. Man, how could I have forgotten about that?" He yanked out a cigar, still disgusted with himself.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Hannibal. I shoulda checked first thing. But they din't hear that much. I don't think they can use Molly's dislikin Face for anything."  
  
"Hmm. Maybe. I still don't like it." He lit the cigar. "Well, okay, I'll head back to the farm. Keep your eyes open. I'll send Murdock over later tonight."  
  
"No problem, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal drove home, keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings, trying not to beat up on himself any longer. Take your own advice, Colonel. Like you tell your men - you made a mistake, you won't make it again. And you'll be careful from now on.  
  
Pulling up to the house, he saw Murdock waiting for him at the front door. God, he was going to nail that damn thing shut. Every time there was a problem, someone was standing at that fucking door, just waiting to lay it on him.  
  
Slamming the door shut, he walked wearily up to the pilot. "Okay, Captain, what now?"  
  
Murdock straightened, eyebrows going up almost to his hairline. "Whoa, Colonel. Problems at Molly's?"  
  
"Sorry, Murdock. Carla bugged Molly's house and I missed it. So she knows a few things I'd just as soon she didn't. Doesn't matter now." He looked up at the pilot, who hadn't moved from the doorway. "You do have a problem, though, don't you?"  
  
"Well, yes and no. I mean, I don't know if we do or not."  
  
"What'd Face do now?"  
  
Murdock looked at the Colonel. Maybe now wasn't the time to bring this up. In fact, he knew it wasn't the time. Backpedaling fast, Murdock tried to think of something mundane that wouldn't bug the man too badly. "Uh, oh, I just, uh, well, Face is spending a lot of time out in the meadow. Uh, not sure that's a good thing, y'know?"  
  
Hannibal looked back at Murdock, exasperation on his face. "Murdock, if he's happy out there and not having those damn visions, leave him alone. Ok? Now what's for lunch?" He moved past Murdock and headed into the kitchen, smelling gumbo. Murdock relaxed.  
  
"MURDOCK!!"  
  
Oops...  
  
****  
  
It was dark. Face thought he might be sleeping yet, dreaming. He hoped so. He didn't want to be awake if this was happening.  
  
C'mon, man...  
  
No, no, no...  
  
Hey, don't get all uptight on me. I wanna make a deal. We'll just talk, okay?  
  
No.  
  
I swear. Just talk. I know you can dump me anytime you want. You found it again, man. Your secret weapon. I can't fight you and them. Not together like that. I admit it, okay?  
  
Ok...  
  
So maybe we could get back the way we used to be. Y'know?  
  
The way we used to be?  
  
I can help you, man. With the gun.  
  
NO!  
  
Hey, hey, just hear me out, okay? Just listen. You got the power now, man, not me. You know that.  
  
Ok...I'll listen. That's all.  
  
That's all I ask, man. That's all I ask...  
  
*****  
  
BA thought he'd heard something. Downstairs. The alarms hadn't gone off, so it wasn't someone coming in. Face. Another nightmare? He'd been having more of them lately. Not so many of the visions. Now they were coming at him at night, when he couldn't fight them off as well.  
  
BA moved quietly down the stairs, opened Face's door. Heard mumbling. He moved into the room, trying not to disturb him. Listened. God, no.  
  
"Face! You awake, man? Face?"  
  
Silence. "BA?"  
  
"Yeah. You was talkin in yer sleep." He waited to see if Face would tell him the truth.  
  
"Oh. Sorry, BA. Sorry."  
  
BA sighed. Damn. "Okay, Face. No problem." He hesitated. "You okay now?"  
  
"Sure, BA. I'm fine."  
  
BA pursed his lips. Call him on it or not? Knowing Face, it wouldn't do any good. He'd have to talk to Hannibal.  
  
"G'night, Face."  
  
"Night, BA."  
  
BA sat up the rest of the night in the kitchen. Just in case.  
  
*****  
  
Face looked at the pillow one last time. Picked it up, setting to one side. The gun lay there. Waiting. He wished Murdock would've helped him. But he couldn't tell Hannibal. He didn't want Hannibal to know if he couldn't do it. That would finish off any chance of coming back to the team. If he couldn't do it now, he'd just wait until he could.  
  
Don't worry. You can do it, man. We can do it. Then we can help Molly. We can help the team. Together.  
  
Face reached for the gun. Took it in his left hand. Picked it up. Sweating. It didn't feel awkward. Felt... natural. He took a deep breath. Put his finger on the trigger. His hand was shaking.  
  
It's okay, man. This ain't nothin we haven't done before. We're not gonna kill anybody. I promised. You got the power, man. You got control. Just like before. Like it's supposed to be.  
  
Face took the gun, tucked into the back of his jeans. Adjusted his shirt over it. Walked out to the meadow.  
  
We're okay, man. This is right.  
  
Yeah. Like it's supposed to be.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you sure, BA?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure, Hannibal. He was talking to him again. And when I said he was talkin in his sleep, he let it pass. He didn't want to admit it. We got trouble, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal put his head in his hands, rubbing his face hard. He shouldn't have taken Face to Molly's. He should have found some other way. It was too much, too soon. Another thought came to him. Murdock, yesterday. Now that he thought about it, Murdock's concern about Face going to the meadow was pretty flimsy. There must've been something else, but Murdock had decided not to tell him. Well, he couldn't blame him. He hadn't exactly been receptive. Damn.  
  
"Okay, BA. I need to talk to Murdock first. He had something he wanted to tell me yesterday. Might have something to do with this. Why don't you go relieve him? It's a little early but I want to get at the bottom of this."  
  
"Got it, Hannibal."  
  
As BA drove off, Hannibal wandered back to Face's room. He'd seen him heading off to the meadow earlier in the morning, just after dawn. If he'd known about BA's news, he might have followed him. He decided to wait now, until he talked to Murdock. He wanted to know exactly what he'd be walking into.


	70. Chapter 70

PART FIVE  
  
For they can conquer who believe they can. - Virgil  
  
CHAPTER SEVENTY  
  
"A gun!"  
  
Hannibal swung around and stared at Murdock. They were standing in the library, the only place they could have any real privacy.  
  
"He asked you to get him a gun and you didn't think it was the right time to tell me about it!"  
  
Murdock squirmed under Hannibal's baleful stare. "Well, Colonel, you were kinda keyed up at the time - I didn't want you goin off half-cocked with him...and it's not like I gave him one. I wanted him to talk to you first, but he didn't want to do that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I don't know, Hannibal. When I suggested it, he just said to forget it and walked out."  
  
"You didn't happen to check the lockers in the basement, did you?"  
  
Murdock shook his head. "Face doesn't know they're down there."  
  
"Well, let's find out, shall we?" Hannibal's steely eyes had not softened one bit toward Murdock. It was going to be a very long day for the pilot.  
  
*****  
  
Face had walked and walked, the gun heavy and cold against his backbone. Just having it there made him feel different. Stronger? No. Colder. Inside. He almost felt like a different person. Not 'him'. Not Face, either. Something in between. He didn't know if he liked it or not. Like he couldn't decide which one he wanted to be, which one he should be. Which one was right. The only thing he did know was this new feeling was not one he'd felt before. Despite what 'he' had said, it wasn't like before. Maybe because he wasn't the same person as before, deep down. Now there was an ugliness inside that hadn't been there before. The ugliness wasn't 'him'. It was inside Face. It was Face.  
  
He reached the end of the meadow. Over the fence. Kept walking. He wanted to be far from the house. As far as he could be. He didn't want them to know, he didn't want them to be part of this. Because he didn't know what was going to happen. Anything could happen. Or nothing. It was a complete unknown to him. Once he took that gun out, once he put the cartridge in, once his finger was on the trigger, he had no idea what he would do.  
  
He finally stopped. This was good. As 'he' had done in another place, Face searched around for items to use as targets, placing them carefully in front a steep incline. He stepped back, maybe fifty feet. It was time. He reached back, pulled out the gun, slipped in the cartridge. Held it in his left hand, getting the feel of it. Took a deep breath.  
  
It's okay, man. These are just sticks and old cans. You can shoot these all you want and it ain't gonna hurt anybody.  
  
Face blinked. Drew the gun up. Put his finger on the trigger.  
  
*****  
  
"Well, that's it, then."  
  
Hannibal had opened Face's locker first. It was obvious it had been searched. Just as obvious that one of the pistols was missing.  
  
Without another word, Hannibal and Murdock hurried up the stairs and out the door. A quick glance out into the meadow told them Face had gone further than he usually did. They started walking, then trotting. The further they went with no sign of Face, the faster they moved.  
  
*****  
  
"I can't."  
  
His hand was shaking. His body was shaking. He dropped his hand to his side, gun dangling loosely from his fingers. That was that. He'd never be on the team again.  
  
Hey, man. C'mon. You're not gonna hurt anyone. You gotta try. They need you, man. Not stuck away somewhere doin their bookwork. They need you with them. Try.  
  
No, I...  
  
I'll help you, okay? Let me help you.  
  
Face looked up at the targets. Just sticks. A couple of cans. Old, rusty cans no one would ever want or need. Sticks the trees had just thrown away. No use to any one. Nothing in that whole place was worth a damn. He could shoot anything there and no one would care.  
  
He looked at the gun in his hand. His left hand. He thought about the other one. Looked at it. Hanging there, worthless. What good was a hand that was withered and bent like that? It was just there. Worthless. A part of the body that was still there only because what else would you do with it?  
  
He gripped the gun a little tighter. Ran his finger around the trigger. Brought the gun up once again.  
  
*****  
  
"Face!"  
  
Hannibal had started calling him after they had gotten halfway through the meadow. Murdock joined in. This was not good. Hannibal wasn't sure why Face really wanted a gun. After that thing at Molly's, he didn't know what was going through Face's head. He'd been quiet and subdued ever since, and Hannibal - again kicking himself - just hadn't had time to sit down and talk with him. If anything happened to his lieutenant, he'd never forgive himself. Never.  
  
There had been a trail of sorts. The grass had died down as winter moved in, but there were patches of tall weed here and there. And scattered among the patches were places where something had gone through, bending it down. Hell, they could be following a fucking deer for all he knew. They came to a fence. Had Face gone over it, or turned? Hannibal figured he'd gone over. He sensed that Face wanted to be far from the house, far from them. He climbed over and started running. Calling Face. Scanning the area as he ran.  
  
"Face!"  
  
*****  
  
He closed his eyes. He didn't need to see. All that mattered was whether or not he could pull the trigger. Did he have it in him?  
  
*****  
  
They heard the shot. One single shot. Ahead of them. Some distance yet. Both men broke into a dead run. Neither had air enough to shout.  
  
They reached a small rise. Raced over it. Stopped, breathing hard. Looked around. Where had the shot come from? Which way?  
  
"There!" Murdock pointed to the left. A figure on the ground. God, no....  
  
*****  
  
The shot echoed around him. Reverberated through his head. Blood. Oh God, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have. Shouldn't have. Blood, all over. All over him. All over the ground. Surrounding him, engulfing him...  
  
Stay with me, man! Stay here! Help me! I can't do it alone, Face! Stay with me! Think of the team! Stay with me!  
  
I can't...I can't...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal pulled Face to him. Calling him. Looking into those deep blue eyes, staring off into space. Fear filling them. No, no, no...  
  
"Face! Face!"  
  
He heard the voices, talking and talking. Pulling him out. Demanding he come out. The visions were receding, flowing away. Pulling something of him with them. Leaving a shell. Only a shell.  
  
He clawed his way out, only a moment, that voice. Looked up at him. Hannibal. "I'm sorry...sorry..." His voice only a whisper. "I tried, Hannibal. I couldn't...sorry..."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry for, Face. You don't have to do that. We still need you. Understand? We need you. The other doesn't matter. Not a damn bit."  
  
Fell back into the visions, drowning in them...  
  
They pulled him up, carrying him between them. Leaving the gun on the ground, forgotten.


	71. Chapter 71

"We lost contact. They must've found the bugs."  
  
"Sloppy. Smith's getting sloppy. They should've found those first. Oh, well. He's eaten crow now, he'll be angry. That's good. Angry men are reckless men." Carla smiled. "Time for another visit. Who's there now?"  
  
"Baracus. He showed up early."  
  
"Hmm. Okay. Not a problem. Anyone else at home?"  
  
"The woman left for work shortly after Baracus arrived. The man left about an hour before that."  
  
"What about the farm?"  
  
"Just got the report. More oddities going on there." Her operative glanced over the sheet. "Seems Peck took an early morning walk. A little more than two hours later, after the Captain returned, he and Smith took off after Peck. In a hurry. Approximately one hour later they returned to the house carrying Peck. Dr Sullivan showed up less than 20 minutes later. Still there."  
  
"Carrying Peck? Wounded?"  
  
"Not that they were able to see. More head problems?"  
  
"Could be. Peck certainly is helping us out. Keeps the team spread too thin to cover the targets at work. Maybe a visit to the house isn't the best course right now. Baracus cooped up there, the rest strung out with Peck...got the address for the warehouse?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Okay. See what you can do with the husband. Take him for a little ride. Stay anonymous, naturally. Nothing damaging. In fact, don't say a word. Just a ride. Nice, quiet, ride around. Drop him back at work afterward. That should stir things up a bit." Carla's eyes glittered.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
*****  
  
Face was staring out the window. Hannibal sat in Mama's old rocker, staring at some place under the bed. Neither man spoke, neither man looked at the other. Murdock leaned against the doorway, glancing first at one man, then the other, then down at his shoes. There hadn't been a sound in the room since Maggie had left, nearly an hour ago, after Face had awakened and she knew he was more or less okay. Murdock had drifted between the bedroom and the kitchen, tinkering with this and that on the cupboards before coming back to the doorway. Finally he looked at his watch. Another hour and he'd have to leave for Molly's. It was Hannibal's rotation but Murdock had no intention of letting him leave Face. Not until they had things worked out. Which might take a long time, the way things were going.  
  
Well, time for Murdock to do what Murdock did best. If the mountain wouldn't go to Mohammed, and Mohammed was equally stubborn, Murdock would have to give them a little push. Or maybe a big push.  
  
He headed down to the basement. To the lockers. Yanked open Face's. Headed determinedly back up the steps, into the bedroom.  
  
"Is this what you want from Face, Hannibal?"  
  
He tossed the sniper rifle on the bed. It bounced, landed with the barrel on Face's shin.  
  
"What...?" Hannibal sat up straight, shocked.  
  
"Is that what you want, Face? Is that what makes you part of the team?"  
  
Face was staring at the rifle, stone like.  
  
"You two sit there like statues, wanting to talk, wanting to get this whole fuckin mess straightened out, and neither one of you can take the first step. So I am. Answer the question, Hannibal. Is that what you want from Face? To be able to shoot at people? Is that what you need? Another gun on the team?"  
  
"No, of course not. Murdock..." Hannibal was angry; good.  
  
"Face, what about you? You think that's the reason you were still on the team? Because you could shoot? You think that's the main value you have to us?"  
  
Face said nothing. He was pale, though. Okay, a little drastic, but the point was made. Murdock grabbed the rifle.  
  
"Talk!"  
  
Murdock marched out of the room to lay the rifle to rest in the basement. He shut the bedroom door firmly behind him.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, Joe! Some guy out here wants to see you."  
  
Joe looked up from his desk. "Who is it?" He was in the middle of the monthly inventory reports, didn't need an interruption right now.  
  
"Didn't say. Just said Smith sent him."  
  
Suddenly worried about Molly, Joe hurried out to the yard. Five minutes later, he was in the back seat of a sedan, wedged between two guys that made him look like a midget. Two more just like them sat in front. Dark suits, dark glasses. No one said a word to him. It had only taken him a few seconds to realize that Smith had not sent them, but by then it was too late. He'd felt something hard in his back, pushing him into the car.  
  
He tried to ask questions. Why they were doing this to him, his wife. Where they were taking him. Back to why. No one said a word, no one would even look at him. As long as he sat still. If he moved at all, he felt the two men on either side of him tensed noticeably. It was warning enough. He sat still.  
  
After about an hour, they pulled up beside the warehouse. One man looked at him before getting out of the car.  
  
"No police, Joe."  
  
He nodded mutely, followed the man out of the car, watched as it drove away. He moved, numbly, into his office, called his home. The one they called BA answered. He told him what had happened. BA said to stay put, he'd be there in ten minutes to pick him up. They would go from there to get Molly.  
  
Joe sat, tapping his pencil on the desk. Watching the clock.  
  
*****  
  
"Face, I..." Hannibal stopped. Murdock had opened the door; could he walk through? "I meant to talk this whole thing over with you a long time ago. It just seemed like something always came up."  
  
"Yeah. I messed up a lot. I'm sorry."  
  
"Face, God, man, you did what you had to do. And you couldn't help the hell you went through afterwards. No one blamed you."  
  
"I did." The last was muttered so low Hannibal almost didn't catch it.  
  
"I know you did. I know you do. But you shouldn't."  
  
"How would you know?" There was definite anger there. Hannibal sensed it was not directed at him, though.  
  
"Face, why don't you tell me, so I will know? BA said it the other day. You've never come out and told any of us what really went on over there. Maybe it's time you did. Maybe if you got it off your chest..."  
  
"I already did that, Hannibal. With Father Magill."  
  
"With all due respect, Face, Father Magill doesn't live with you. He doesn't see the pain you're going through every day." Hannibal leaned forward, looking intently at the sullen profile of his friend. "God's forgiven you, Face. When are you going to forgive yourself?"  
  
Face jerked, looked over at Hannibal. "I..."  
  
"Face, tell me what happened. Everything."  
  
Face looked down at the bed. "I can't. I'd lose you."  
  
Hannibal was shaken at that. Hannibal already knew the worst of what Face had done. Why would Face be afraid to tell him the details? Obviously there was more to it than just three dead terrorists. Something Face felt more ashamed of than the killing of three murderers.  
  
"Face, you will never lose me. Never. I've known you most of your life. I know what's inside you. And that tells me the kind of man you are, regardless of what you had to do over there. If you haven't lost me yet, you never will. So you tell me, Lieutenant. You tell me everything."  
  
*****  
  
BA had called the house before leaving to pick up Joe and Molly. He was bringing them back to the farm for the time being, until they could figure out what the next move would be. He'd even brought the dog. After all, it was only Hannibal's car.  
  
Murdock met them at the gate, which was unusual. He ran along the driver's side as BA slowly pulled up to the house. He was trying to be quiet, explaining that Face and Hannibal had some things to work out and couldn't be disturbed, so they needed to get Joe and Molly settled someplace where they wouldn't disturb the two. Molly was already upset; her boss was threatening to fire her if she didn't get this 'mess' cleared up soon. She'd been missing far too much time, etc., etc. She had half a notion to tell the jerk to shove the job, but they needed the money. So being herded into the library to sit and wait for Colonel Smith was not exactly to her liking. If it hadn't been for Joe's quiet control of things, she might have been tempted to make a scene. As it was, she sat in the library muttering angrily while pretending to soothe their nervous dog.  
  
Meanwhile, Murdock and BA were conferring just outside the library doors. BA was practically apoplectic when he heard what had transpired with Face. It was all Murdock could do to keep him from banging in to give Face a piece of his mind. As it was, Murdock took a great deal of abuse for not immediately telling Hannibal about his conversation with Face.  
  
"Okay, BA, okay! I screwed up. I didn't know Face knew where the guns were kept. If I had, I'd'a told Hannibal right away, bad mood or not. Doesn't change anything now. At least the two of them are talking it out now, okay?"  
  
BA glowered at the pilot, but held onto any further comments. "What are we gonna do with those two?" He nodded toward the library.  
  
At that particular moment, Murdock's ideas on what to do with the clients was non too charitable. He hadn't wanted to get involved with them in the first place. "Give 'em some coffee and tell 'em to relax. They're safer here than anywhere. When Hannibal's done with Face, he'll come talk to them."  
  
After one last mutual glare, BA headed for the kitchen and Murdock flopped down in the living room. The day was already too long.  
  
*****  
  
Carla listened as her operative filled her in on the morning's activities.  
  
"I doubt we'll be able to do anything while they're at the farm, ma'am, unless you want to mount a raid on it."  
  
"No, we aren't familiar enough with the layout or their defenses there. They'll have to come out eventually. We'll give them a little time to stew." She picked up the little toy soldier from the dresser. "Let's send them a reminder that we're out here."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Carla was getting just a little impatient with the cat and mouse game. She had other business and clients starting to press on her time. She would have to finish this soon. But she wanted to make sure it stayed finished.


	72. Chapter 72

"I'm sorry, Hannibal." Face shook his head. He didn't want to look at Hannibal. "I don't know what else to say." He flopped his hands down on his lap.  
  
Hannibal had listened much as Father Magill had, trying to hold his reactions inside. He looked at it all from a very different point of view than the priest, however. He was a soldier. He knew, better than the priest, what every day over there had been like for Face, what every move had meant. He appreciated the kind of planning, concentration, and determination that had been involved. He also knew what Face had been like after certain missions in Nam. At least back then, he'd had the support of his teammates. They didn't have to say anything or do anything - just the fact they were there and knew what he was going through had been enough.  
  
But on Stockwell's mission, Face had been alone. Almost totally alone. And that had been by design. He could not afford to have anyone know what he was really doing, or what he really looked like, or know where he was for any length of time. Other than phone calls or deliveries from Stockwell's drones, what little human contact he had had was when killing. No one to fall back on. No one to depend on. No one to get advice or solace from. No one to talk to.  
  
Did he blame Face for killing the terrorists? No. Did he blame him for killing those other men? No. Face had been put in an impossible situation. Should he have sacrificed himself for doing what he had no choice in? For doing the only thing he could to save the lives of his family? No, Hannibal didn't blame Face. He didn't look down on him. He didn't feel he had to forgive him any more, either. Having heard the whole story, there was nothing to forgive. Nothing at all. So how to get Face to believe that? How to get Face to understand that the hell he had put himself through the last year had been unnecessary? How did he put Face back together again? Was it even possible?  
  
He stood, moved over to the bed. Placing his hand on Face's shoulder, he waited until Face looked up at him. "You haven't anything to apologize for. What you just told me was very hard to listen to. Not because of what you did, but because I finally understand what you went through over there, and what you've been going through since you came back. I can only repeat, you have not lost me. Or Murdock. Or BA. You are a member of the team and you always will be. Always.  
  
"We can talk later about what you want to do, what you feel comfortable doing. But whatever that may be, it will be as a full member of this team. I do not want you to ever feel you need to pick up a gun in order to stay with us, Face. I don't ever want you to feel that you need to do something you aren't ready for, just to stay on. If you never do another thing for the team, you will still be a part of it. And I will be damn proud of that. Do we understand each other?"  
  
Face said nothing, just nodded. He looked quickly out of the window. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder and walked out. BA and Murdock were waiting. Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment. Sometimes, he really wished... never mind. Time to deal with the next crisis. Whatever the hell that was.  
  
*****  
  
Face sat for a few more minutes, thinking. Mulling things over. There had been no recriminations, no "you should have" or "you shouldn't have". No judgments. Even after... He was still a part of the team. Hannibal had listened through everything - everything - and he was still a part of the team. '...you have not lost me...', '...I will be damn proud of that...'. He had to hang on to that...  
  
So what did he want to do? He had thought the most important thing to him was to be back with them, like nothing had happened. In on the missions, the scams, taking down the bad guys. Feeling the Jazz. Now he wasn't sure. He didn't know if he could feel it again. Didn't know if he could really do it. Not without...repercussions. Too many things he didn't know.  
  
He got up, wandered to the window. Maybe for now, for a while, it would be best not to do anything. Just stay away from the missions, the clients. Definitely stay away from the guns. Just let things ride. See how long he could stand it. How long he could stay away from it. Maybe come back slowly. Little things here and there. He could still handle their finances. Nothing dangerous in that. For any of them. Be the bookkeeper. Why not? He could do as much for the team with that as if he were with them in the field.  
  
Except keep them safe.  
  
What if they really did need another gun? Another lookout? What if one of them got hurt because they were down a man? How would he feel then? Face looked out at the meadow. Inviting. Beckoning. Damn. Nothing was ever simple any more...  
  
*****  
  
It was time to force Carla's hand. Hannibal was tired of playing her game, waiting for her to make some move on their clients. It was time to take the heat off Molly and Joe and make the team what it was - the real target. Molly and Joe were not real happy when they heard what Hannibal's plan was, but going up against Hannibal when he was on the Jazz was not something civilians could deal with easily.  
  
The Colonel went with Molly the next morning and had heart-to-heart with her boss. BA went with Joe for 'moral support'. They met at the house midmorning, and by noon, Molly and Joe were on their way to the airport. The dog, much to BA's dismay and Murdock's delight, was staying at the farm.  
  
Hannibal knew Carla would be furious. She wouldn't have expected Smith to send away the only contact they had with her. She would know then that Hannibal wanted her to come directly after the team. And she would come after them. She wouldn't just walk away, accepting defeat. Not this time. Whether she would want to come after them on the farm or try to draw them out, he didn't know. He intended to make her come to them.  
  
A second perimeter, midway between the farm's boundaries and the house, was established with the same kind of security system that guarded the outer edge. Hannibal hated depending on electronic gizmos, but the property was too large, their manpower too small. Within that second boundary, they had installed a variety of little surprises for any unexpected guests. Regardless of how many people Carla brought to the party, Hannibal was confident not enough would be left by the time they reached the house and barn to pose a significant problem.  
  
There remained only one thing left to take care of. And Hannibal wasn't quite sure how that was going to work out...  
  
*****  
  
"Colonel, you've come up with some stupid plans in your life but this has got to be the dumbest, most idiotic, ridiculous one I've ever heard. You cannot be serious!"  
  
Hannibal had expected strong objections from Murdock; even so it took him by surprise.  
  
"There's no need to be insulting, Captain. I know it's dangerous, but we can deal with the possible exposures. It's the only way I can think of to definitely bring her in."  
  
"I don't like it, Hannibal." BA's scowl couldn't possibly get deeper. He agreed with Murdock 100%; Hannibal just wasn't thinkin straight or he'd'a never come up with somethin this reckless.  
  
"Have you asked him yet? Or were you going to spring that as she waltzed through the door?"  
  
"I'm not going to ask him, because he's not going to be in any danger whatsoever."  
  
"What do you mean, no danger? Being bait for Carla is a picnic in the park?"  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes. He was finding that sometimes it helped to blot out the people in front of him, just for a few seconds. Opening them again, he tried to be patient with the pilot. "There's no danger because he's not really going to be the bait. We're just going to make Carla think he is - I mean, Carla's going to think she can get to him. That's all. He won't be anywhere she can get near him."  
  
"And where the hell would that be?"  
  
"I'm going to send him to visit Trish. I've already talked to her. She can't wait to see him. And us, when we're done here."  
  
Murdock and BA looked at each other. They never would have thought of Ray's widow. Leave it to the Colonel.  
  
*****  
  
There was no belligerence, no anger, just a very calm, quiet, "No."  
  
Hannibal stared at his lieutenant. "Face, you can't stay here. When Carla comes, she's going to be coming in full bore. And she's going to be looking for you in particular. I can't have you in the line of fire."  
  
"Either I'm part of the team or I'm not, Hannibal. If I'm not, then I'll go. But I'll go where I decide. If I'm on the team, I stay with the team. I'm sure there's something I can do." The voice was still calm, impossibly reasonable.  
  
Hannibal looked at BA and Murdock for support. BA looked at his shoes. Murdock started whistling softly, looking everywhere but at his Colonel. No way they were going to get in the middle of this. They had been all in favor of sending Face away to Trish's, but they knew better than to get between these two mules. It was just as well neither were looking at Hannibal right then, or the glare he was giving them would have ground them right into dust.  
  
He turned back to Face. He knew the man wanted to help, wanted to pull his own weight, but this was dangerous, especially for Face. He really didn't think Face understood that.  
  
"Face, look. I can't have you here. I can't be worrying about whether or not you're safe while dealing with Carla. Neither can BA or Murdock. And you know that's exactly what would be happening. I - we - need to know that you're where she can't possibly get at you. Otherwise we're not going to be performing at our peak."  
  
It was hitting below the belt and everyone knew it, but Hannibal felt Face had left him no choice. There was no way he would leave his friend anywhere near the farm when Carla arrived. If Carla got to him, he didn't know if Face would try to fight, or be forced to flee - either way, it wouldn't be good.  
  
Face looked Hannibal in the eye for only a second before turning and walking out the door. They watched as he moved purposely toward the meadow. With a glance at Hannibal, Murdock hurried after him, keeping him well within view without getting too close. BA headed out toward the barn and his van, giving Hannibal a reassuring slap on the shoulder as he moved past. Hannibal just watched as his friend disappeared from sight.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock moved quickly but quietly several yards behind Face. The pilot didn't care if Face knew he was there; at the same time, he didn't want to intrude if Face wanted privacy. Finally, Face came to an abrupt halt and looked over his shoulder at Murdock.  
  
"You might as well walk with me as behind me." He hadn't lost the calm control of his voice. In a way, Murdock almost wished he would sound angry or upset. At least he knew how to deal with that. He moved up next to Face, who showed no interest in moving farther into the meadow. They stood for several moments in silence, Face looking around the grassland, Murdock looking at Face.  
  
"He's right, you know." The sudden quiet statement startled Murdock. He kicked perfunctorily at a stone in the grass.  
  
"Yeah. But it can't be easy to hear."  
  
"No. But the last thing I want to do is pose a threat to any of you. And I would, if I stayed. Whether Carla had a chance in hell of getting to me or not, you guys would be worrying about it. He was right to bring it up."  
  
"So you'll go stay with Trish for a while?" Murdock hoped Face would say yes. That would mean he understood he was still on the team, even if he had to go away this time.  
  
Face sighed. "Sure, yeah. It would be nice to see her again. And Ray's boy. He must be pretty big now."  
  
"Yup."  
  
They stood in silence for several more minutes, each deep in his own thoughts. Face turned abruptly and started walking back toward the house. Before Murdock could start after him, he turned and looked at Murdock.  
  
"I won't always be like this, Murdock. I don't want you guys thinking you're always going to have to protect me from the bad guys."  
  
Murdock stepped past Face, giving him a nonchalant glance as he did. "Never entered our minds, Face."  
  
*****  
  
Maggie came out to the farm later that day, to "check up" on Face. When she left, he was laying under a blanket in the back seat. She dropped him off at a small airfield several miles from town. He would catch a local flight to LA and head from there to Barlow Creek. She couldn't help thinking he looked very much alone standing in front of the terminal, wishing he had allowed her to wait with him for his flight.  
  
He watched until her car was out of sight before going into the terminal. He hurried to the telephone bank and placed a call. When Trish answered, he told her he would be coming a couple days later than planned, as he wanted to stop in LA and see Father Magill. Hanging up, he headed for the rental car agency.


	73. Chapter 73

If Hannibal thought Carla would be furious, he underestimated her. She was apoplectic. Her subordinates, at least the lucky ones, tried to stay out of her way. The rest were grateful if they left work with their heads still attached that day. Several muttered, low, that if they had felt safe doing so, they would quit. But you didn't quit Carla.  
  
That Baracus had taken the couple to the farm without anyone notifying her immediately was bad enough. Had she known, the three would have been her guests before they had gotten close to safety. Then, to have Smith and Baracus within her grasp and allowed to escape without so much as a gun drawn...it was like a slap in the face. That they had given her people the slip taking the couple to the airport was an embarrassment as great to her as Smith's missing the bugs had been to him. The only saving grace in the entire debacle was her lone agent at the airport, who had alerted her to the departure of the couple. Unfortunately, when they reached their initial destination, alternative identities had been assumed and they had disappeared off the face of the earth. She could find them, but it would take time she didn't have.  
  
Dr. Sullivan was crossed off as an alternative hostage. Based on sheriff's reports, gotten through various methods, she learned that someone was making continual anonymous threats against the bitch. Patrols around her home and office had increased, and any excursions she made were shadowed discreetly by an unmarked. There would be no way of picking her up without involving the local authorities. She wasn't worth it. She had to hand it to Smith. He'd won that round.  
  
The last bit of information she received decided her. Peck. Reports were returning that he was target practicing next to the barn. A large wooden target had been painted on it, a female figure, the name in bold paint above it obvious. All shots taken were head shots.  
  
She began assembling her own team. Her assault team.  
  
*****  
  
"Think she bit, Colonel?"  
  
"I think so, Captain. The target's pretty good sized. Her people couldn't have missed it. And hopefully they were concentrating on your left handed shooting instead of your height. Good thing we had a good supply of squibs left." Hannibal chuckled. Murdock couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with his left hand. With a little of Frankie's left-over 'movie magic', they'd made him look every bit as good as Face had been right-handed. As long as Murdock kept his sunglasses on and wore that cap of Face's, he hoped the view through binoculars would be convincing.  
  
"How long you figure before she'll hit?"  
  
"I would say soon, maybe even tonight. We've insulted her in the most basic ways. Made her and her people look like amateurs with Joe and Molly, and made her look like a fool in front of her people with that target. She's angry enough with the rest of us - now 'Face' has added insult to injury - literally. Her temper and pride won't let her ignore that challenge. Yeah, she's not going to wait long at all. " Hannibal gazed around the yard, stopping on the gate to the meadow. He was glad Face was with Trish, far from Carla. He would have liked to have called him, try to explain his reasons better, but hadn't dared, for fear Carla would be able to trace it. For the same reason, he'd told Trish not to call them.  
  
He'd felt bad, very bad, watching Face packing up. He hadn't said much to Hannibal when he'd come back in with Murdock. Only that he would go to Barlow Creek and wait. Just before crawling into the back seat of Maggie's car, he'd looked long and hard at Hannibal.  
  
"Be careful, Hannibal. Remember what she said about a woman scorned. She may be green, but she's not dumb." And then Maggie had driven away with him.  
  
Hannibal broke out of his memories. "Okay, guys, let's get ready. She could be arriving any time. We want a proper welcome ready." He grinned around his cigar. Finally some action.  
  
*****  
  
It had taken him some time to find them. He was impressed. These people had learned a few things since their last encounter with the team. But they weren't quite up to par yet. Just the fact that he had found their hiding place told him that. He'd listened to their one-sided conversation with Carla's base for quite some time before he knew enough to make his first move. It only took a moment to place the homing device on their vehicle. These two would be heading back within an hour. Then he'd know exactly where Carla was hiding.  
  
He'd thought about taking her there. But she would have too many defenses set up. It would better during the heat of battle. When her mind was otherwise occupied.  
  
He double-checked the tracking device, making sure it was solidly placed and functioning. He had one more errand to run.  
  
*****  
  
BA was checking the inner perimeter system. He figured Carla's people already knew about it and would most likely disable it as quickly as possible. They had a backup generator ready so he wasn't too worried. Nor was he concerned about the various booby-traps. Carla would be expecting those. They just wouldn't know where to look for them. And BA knew a few tricks he was sure Carla had no inkling of. Things you couldn't learn in spook school. Little things you learned in the jungles of war, on the streets of Chicago. Nitty-gritty things. Not nice things.  
  
But then, Carla wasn't nice.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was busy checking the house. Every method of entrance had been carefully booby-trapped, waiting to be set. He moved to the library. Their last stand place, chosen because it was located closest to the center of the house and was most defensible. Hopefully they wouldn't end up in there. If they did, it would mean Carla's people had been able to push through all their defenses in numbers great enough to mean the team's defeat. Hannibal intended to keep his promise to Face and Mama as long as possible. If they ended up here, all bets were off.  
  
*****  
  
He had to be careful now. He couldn't be sure where Carla's watchdogs were, if they could even see the back side of the meadow. He'd made his way slowly along the perimeter, had seen signs of where they had been, but nothing this far back. He also had to circumvent BA's security system, no easy task. If he hadn't known about it, known where the sensors were, he would have set it off in no time. As it was, it took longer than he wanted to get past it.  
  
He found the gun almost immediately. It had dropped unharmed to the ground where he'd stood. He cleaned it quickly, efficiently. Checked the cartridge. Held it in his hand, thinking hard. Decided. Shoved it in with a hard snap. Cautiously retraced his path.  
  
Back at the car, he checked his tracker. They should be starting to move any time now. He would follow, find Carla. Then it would be a matter of sitting back and waiting for her to move.  
  
*****  
  
Carla listened to the report from her observers. Smith was expecting her; she had known that. A lot of activity in the last day, especially the last few hours. No more sightings of Peck, but she'd expected that, too. He may think he was ready for her, but she knew Smith would be keeping him under wraps as much as possible. She was well aware of his problems. She'd seen the reports from overseas even before Stockwell had. Had been right there during his journeys here in the States. Known what was going on at the farm. So he thought he was ready for this, did he? She and Smith knew better. That's why he wasn't out and about with the rest of them. Was it his idea to hide away in the house, or Smith's? She could imagine his thoughts as the tension built, waiting for this confrontation. Starting to think about firing at real people again, instead of that wooden target. Starting to wonder if he could do it again. She looked forward to meeting up with him again. Very, very much.  
  
She glanced at the clock. A while yet. Her people were getting ready. These weren't the green recruits Smith had run into at the motel. She wasn't stupid. Smith may be the enemy, but he was smart. She listened to smart people. She learned from them. Stockwell had been smart. But he'd been arrogant, too. That had been his downfall.  
  
And Smith was every bit as arrogant. Every bit...  
  
*****  
  
The sun set slowly. He watched the old office building closely. A lot of people in and out. And they weren't the kind of people the Colonel had described from the motel. Their bearing told him they were seasoned professionals. Hopefully the Colonel had taken that into consideration. He must have. He wasn't stupid.  
  
He watched from the car for several hours, slumped down so he could just see over the dashboard. No one had looked in his direction. Good. They weren't infallible then. A little too confident. That was Carla. She was smart enough. She just gave herself a little more credit than she should.  
  
Stockwell had been like that, too. Too sure of himself. Too sure of his people. That had been Stockwell's problem. He and the Colonel were alike in that way. Hopefully, the Colonel was being more realistic. Not so much Jazz. Not tonight. You had to be confident, a little too much so, when you headed into a battle. Otherwise you defeated yourself. But overconfidence could also kill you.  
  
He'd never been overconfident. His problem was something else. Something the Colonel had never had. Something that allowed him to do things others wouldn't, couldn't. Something he'd always had. Or maybe it was really something that he was missing. It wasn't that he didn't fear dying. None of them did. No, his problem was a little different.  
  
His problem was thinking death just might be better...


	74. Chapter 74

It was well after midnight when it began. The house was dark, only the security lights on in the yard. The lights on the alarm panel went off suddenly, indicating a power loss. One minute later they came back on as the emergency generator kicked in. There was no indication anyone had noticed.   
  
Carla didn't believe in gambling, especially not where Hannibal Smith was involved. For each team member, she had 10 operatives, 40 total going into the field. She sat in a small van, situated a half mile from the farm gates. She would make her appearance once the house was successfully surrounded. She wanted to be there for the end. She wanted to watch Smith turn over his weapon to her. And she wanted Peck. She wanted to see what he would do when she confronted him. Most of all, she wanted him to give her a reason to put a bullet in him.   
  
Carla was not averse to that kind of action. Almost anyone who had been with Stockwell for any length of time had come up through the ranks. Anyone who thought she was 'just a secretary' was sadly mistaken. She hadn't necessarily gotten soft over the past few years, serving as his right hand 'man', and not being out in the field. A bit out of practice, perhaps. A bit lazy, in fact. And sometimes it was useful making people think she wasn't as competent as she actually was. Smith had certainly made that mistake. But then, she'd never really shown her true colors to any of the team. They had caught a glimpse of reality after they took out Stockwell. But only a glimpse. She'd started a little too early, before she had completely regrouped. She was on track now. And if Smith thought this was going to be a picnic, he was in for a big surprise.   
  
*****  
He'd been lightly dozing throughout the evening. More like a quick snatch of sleep scattered through the hours. When the flotilla of vehicles started exiting the parking lot of the office building, he'd awakened in seconds. He waited until the last vehicle had gone several blocks before heading out. He knew where they were going. What he needed to find was the command vehicle.   
  
He took a short cut to the farm, parking his car behind a billboard not quite a mile from the gate. From there he hurried through the trees and rocks for another half mile or so. Shimmying up a tree, he waited. He figured Carla would want to be close enough for quick and easy access to the house once the takeover was completed. If he was wrong, well, it might get a little hairy for the team before he could take corrective action.   
  
Ten minutes later he breathed a sigh of relief. Headlights, three pair, coming down the road. Just before reaching his position, the lights went off and the vans slowed to a crawl, their drivers navigating by moonlight only. They stopped almost in front of him and disgorged their passengers. It was hard to see everything, but he counted at least 12 of the enemy. Knowing that at least six vehicles had left the parking lot, he realized the others must be going around to encompass the farm. Carla wasn't taking any chances, that was certain.   
  
One van had not opened up yet. He caught a reflection of light off a small antenna on the roof. He smiled.   
  
Gotcha.   
  
*****  
"BA?"  
  
"Quiet so far, Colonel. Haven't reached the inner perimeter yet."  
  
"Ok...Murdock?"  
  
"One booby trap snapped for sure, Colonel. Close to the outer perimeter. Otherwise nothing."  
  
"Got that, BA?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Ok. Eyes and ears open, guys."  
  
This was the worst part, for any of them. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Keeping still, keeping as quiet as possible, not giving away their own positions in any way. Hoping the traps worked, hoping they saw the enemy in time, hoping they weren't badly outnumbered. Hoping nobody got killed.   
  
To his right, a twig snapped. Followed by a loud crashing of brush and debris. Too close for him to alert the rest, but he knew they were ready. He wondered idly how many had gone down this time. He wondered how many others they hadn't heard. Didn't matter right now. They were waiting for Carla's people to surround the house. Once that had been accomplished, contact would be made with the team, demanding surrender. Or maybe they'd just start firing. Either way, it wouldn't matter. The team wouldn't be in the house.   
  
They would be behind them.   
  
*****  
  
He moved carefully, but rapidly. He didn't worry too much about being heard coming down the tree, or moving overland. The people in the van would be glued to their headphones and mic's. Thinking they were safe. Thinking they had nothing to worry about except guiding their troops to their final destination. In other words, not thinking.   
  
He had only two concerns now. How many were actually in the van, and whether any of them would step out at the wrong time. He moved quickly across the road itself, stopping beside the van. Listening. Mumbled voices. Very carefully, he placed his ear against the side. Better. Couldn't quite make out the words, but he could individualize the voices. Carla. One male. No, two. Okay. He could deal with that.   
  
He moved cautiously to the front of the vehicle, crouching as he crossed in front of it to the ditch on the other side, keeping low. Found a long stick. That would work. Carefully positioning himself near the rear of the van, he reached under it with the stick and gently rubbed on the underbelly. The muffle of voices continued. He rubbed again, a little harder. The voices stopped. Silence for only a moment. The van wobbled, someone getting up, moving around. The rear door opened slowly. One male stepped carefully out, gun in hand. Keeping the rear tire between himself and the man as he looked under the van, he tossed a small stone off into the weeds. When the agent stepped around the side, he was grabbed, his head pulled down, a knee shoved into his face, rolled into the ditch.   
  
The van wobbled once again.   
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Fuckin' possum." He coughed a bit as he spoke. Chuckling, the second man moved back into the van, leaving the door open.   
  
He pulled his pistol. Stepped around and into the van in one quick motion. The second man was down and shoved out the back almost instantaneously.   
  
"Hello, Carla. Long time, no see..."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had to admit - these people were good. Much better than the wet-behind-the-ear recruits she'd had earlier. Sure, they were dropping like flies into the booby-traps, but only the really good traps. The leaders of the groups seemed to have a sixth sense about certain areas, and steered clear of them. From what little the team had been able to talk to each other, Hannibal figured there were probably close to twenty agents surrounding the house. The next step in his plan should probably take out about half. So figure three a piece, left over.   
  
Piece of cake.  
  
They were using coded clicks on their radios now. When Hannibal sent out a steady stream of clicks, they would attack. Hannibal checked in with each of them. Murdock was ready to go, as was Hannibal. BA was silent. Okay. Wait a few minutes. Watch. Hope Carla's people didn't precipitate things, that they would wait until BA's position was cleared enough for a go.  
  
Carl's people waited just long enough. BA signaled ready, Murdock and Hannibal confirmed their status. Hannibal was just sending the go signal when Carla's people started firing on the house. Hannibal swore as he moved from his position. Damn, that's gonna cost to fix...  
  
*****  
  
The shots were clearly heard in the van. He hoped Carla hadn't seen him jump; probably not. Her gaze was fixed on the wall of the van, as he sat next to her on the desk, casually swinging his leg as he held the gun to her temple. He kept his voice and demeanor casual, reasonable. Ignored the gunfire.  
  
"Well, Carla, we seem to have a little problem here. Any ideas as to how to fix that?"  
  
"You could surrender."  
  
He chuckled. "You do have a sense of humor after all, Carla. I'm impressed. Now, seriously, what do you think we should do about this little situation? I was thinking along the lines of your people putting down their weapons and going home. How's that sound to you?"  
  
Carla struggled to keep back a blasphemous retort. She was hoping to stall him until the two agents outside recovered. If they would recover. She had no idea how hard they had been hit.  
  
"You're not answering, Carla. What's the matter? Don't like my idea?"  
  
"You think that would solve all your problems? Just everybody shut down and go home?"  
  
"Oh, there's a little more to it than that, Carla. Quite a bit more, actually." He stood up suddenly, bouncing the muzzle off Carla's temple, just a bit, as he did so. She winced noticeably. He smiled. It was nice to feel that buzz coming back. Just a little. "Yeah, there is quite a bit more to it. See, I don't like you continually coming after me. Or the rest of the team, for that matter. Things just start settling down for us and then you come along and cause trouble again. It's really pretty irritating. Don't you think that would get irritating, Carla?"  
  
Reluctantly, she decided she had to go along with him. For now.  
  
"Yes, that would get irritating."  
  
"So why do you keep doing it, Carla?" There was a hard edge to his voice now. Carla started getting nervous. She hadn't thought he could have gotten this far; now she was wondering just how far he was willing to go.  
  
"You shot me. I'm supposed to let that go?"  
  
"Well, sure." Back to the calm, reasonable tone. Keeping her off balance. "Fortunes of war. I mean, I could've killed you just as easily. Just raised the sights a little, tiny bit..." He moved the muzzle up the side of her head, just a little. "You know, head shots are so much harder than a body shot. But then, where would the challenge be? Don't you agree, Carla?"  
  
She started to nod her head, thought better of it. "Yes, there wouldn't be much challenge."  
  
He listened for a moment; less gunfire, but enough so he knew he had to continue. He would have liked to just tell her to call it off. That wouldn't be enough. This all had to end tonight.   
  
"I think you're a reasonable person, Carla. I would hate to think I made a mistake there in the park." He pressed the muzzle a little further. His voice got hard again. "Tell me I didn't make a mistake in the park, Carla."  
  
"No, you didn't make a mistake. It was the right decision. I am a reasonable person." Who wants to keep her brains intact.  
  
"Good. I don't like making mistakes. They come back to haunt a person." Cool it. Don't get on that vein.  
  
"I guess you would know, wouldn't you?" A smirk crept into Carla's voice.  
  
He pressed the muzzle even more, making Carla tilt her head awkwardly. "You don't want to go there, Carla. You really, really don't."  
  
"No, you're right. I'm sorry."  
  
He smiled again. "Good girl. Now, we need to get down to business. I have a proposition for you."  
  
"Surrender?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking. I prefer to think of it as coming to a mutual understanding. Doesn't that sound much better, Carla?"  
  
"Yes, it does." Good. Carla was sounding more and more cooperative. She had to think he was just as maxed out now as he had been over there. He had to get this finished before he really was.  
  
"Okay. Now, you know I gleaned a bit of extra information while I was doing the General's little errand, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But do you know who I talked to, to get that information? I mean, all of the people I talked to? Or how much each of these people might have told me? Any ideas at all?"  
  
"No. I know you learned more than you should have."  
  
"Oh, definitely. Let's see, what are some of the things I know?" He proceeded to list off several names and dates. A few places scattered across Europe. "How's that for a start, Carla?"  
  
If it was possible, Carla had gone even whiter than when he'd first put the gun to her head. He knew he'd gotten her attention now. She knew he had enough information to bring her burgeoning empire down in ashes.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Peace."  
  
He said it so softly Carla wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.  
  
"I'm sorry? Did you say..."  
  
"This is what I want. Non-interference. I won't interfere with you; you don't interfere with the team. You've had your last chance. One more time, it's the last time. I'll bring your organization to its knees, and you along with it. You know I can. You know I will."  
  
"I call in my people, leave, never bother you again, and you keep your knowledge to yourself? How do I know you will?"  
  
"You have my word on it, Carla. Regardless of what else you think of me, you should know that I don't go back on that."  
  
"If I don't agree?"  
  
"I blow your fucking brains out." Calm down, stay cool...  
  
"You don't give me much choice, do you?"  
  
"None whatever, Carla." Moving the gun to the back of her head, he brought his face down close to hers, almost touching, cheek to cheek, his voice so soft it was almost breathy. "Oh, and in case you're thinking of blowing a certain person to bits to keep him quiet, everything I know is written down, Carla. And in a very safe place. I'm a firm believer in insurance. So, do we understand each other, Carla?"  
  
"Yes, I believe we do."  
  
Thank God. He didn't have the stomach for another war.  
  
"Good." He straightened abruptly. "Call off your goons. Now. If I see one on the grounds 30 minutes from now, all bets are off. And remember, Carla, I can destroy you. Any time. Today, tomorrow, any time. Or never. It's up to you."  
  
Carla reached for the microphone. "What about the wounded..." She turned. He was gone. For a brief instant, she thought of reneging. Only for a brief instant. She put out the recall.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was down to his last rounds. He knew Murdock and BA must be just as low. He was pretty sure there were only a handful of Carla's people left. Many of those surrounding the house had been taken out by the tear gas barrage, lobbed so quickly and closely they had been unable to reach their gas masks. He had hoped to force the remaining men into the house, where the rest of their booby-traps were waiting. Unfortunately, those left were the hard core veterans who had recognized the possibility and determinedly avoided that avenue.   
  
The team's carefully planned routes to the library stronghold had been cut off when several of Carla's people had managed to out maneuver the team members. Hannibal could effectively move between two close positions. Murdock was trapped in his current one. He hadn't heard from BA in the last few minutes; there was heavy firing from that direction and he assumed BA was occupied.  
  
Hannibal was beginning to wonder if they were going to come out of this alive when there was a sudden, shrill whistle from somewhere amongst Carla's people. Immediately the gunfire diminished to almost nothing. Shadows that had been firing at them began to drift away, moving toward the perimeter. Hannibal looked around, cautious, curious, puzzled. What the hell...?  
  
Within minutes there wasn't a sound around them. The wounded and gassed had been carried out quickly and quietly as the shadows had disappeared. Slowly Hannibal raised himself from his position, stiff from the cold, damp ground. Looking around, he saw Murdock walking cautiously from his position. BA soon joined them, a bit of blood oozing from a graze on his arm.   
  
"What's going on, Colonel?"  
  
"I have no idea, Captain. But I suggest we get into the house and reload, just in case. I have this funny feeling they aren't coming back, but I'm taking no chances."  
  
The three men hurried into the house. Standing at the door, Hannibal checked the yard and surrounding area for a few more minutes. Not a sound, not a movement. What the hell...?  
  
*****  
  
He watched as the agents slowly filtered back to the vans. The two he had disabled at the command vehicle were issuing orders. Within a few minutes the vans were filled and starting back down the road, headlights blazing. Carla's was the last to go. It sat for just a few moments longer before turning around and heading back toward town.  
  
He let out his breath. Looked at his watch. He'd been in 'negotiations' for just over 30 minutes. All the time with his gun to her head. Thank God she hadn't tried anything. It wouldn't have taken much for Carla to realize he was holding an empty gun on her...


	75. Chapter 75

He raised his head, eyes bleary, head pounding. Early sunlight was filtering through the trees, sliding in through the car windows. He was momentarily confused. He was lying on the back seat of the rental, out in the country. Trish. He was supposed to fly out to see Trish. Stay with her. Until it was safe for him again.  
  
Safe. It should be, now. He'd done it. He'd saved the team. Himself. Molly and Joe. He should be feeling proud, at least satisfied. Vindicated. He could still help the team. He could still keep them safe. So why did his mouth taste like vomit? Why was everything tinged with red? Why did he feel like he'd done something terribly wrong?  
  
The gun. Where was it? He tried to think, to remember. Last night. He couldn't remember all the details. Just holding the gun to Carla's head. He remembered that. Vividly. He wiped the perspiration from his face. His hand came away red. No. No. Don't do that now. It's over. The hell with the gun. He didn't have it in his hand, that's all that mattered. The blood could go away now.  
  
Please...  
  
*****  
  
"I don't like it, Hannibal. It was quiet all night. They just left, and nobody come back. Ain't right."  
  
"I know, BA, I know. That's not like Carla. That's not how she operates. She wouldn't have brought all those people in, planned this out like she did, just to prove a point. She was out for blood last night. So what made her quit?"  
  
Murdock sat quietly, watching out the window. They had all stayed up the rest of the night, watching. Waiting for the return attack that never came. Wondering why.  
  
"She'd only quit if she figured she had what she wanted. But what did she get? None of us got hurt, 'cept BA's arm got stung. And Face is with Trish." Murdock kicked at the wall with his toe. "Doesn't make any sense."  
  
Hannibal stared at Murdock. Without a word, he went swiftly to the phone. Waiting for a pick up on the other end, he chewed angrily on his cigar. BA and Murdock watched uneasily from their positions.  
  
"Trish? Hannibal. Just checking on Face. I...what?" Hannibal closed his eyes. No, no, no... "Okay, Trish, no, don't worry. It was pretty hectic here yesterday, he probably just forgot to tell me...no problem. We'll be there in a few days, don't worry...yeah, looking forward to it, too. Bye, Trish."  
  
Hannibal looked at his two remaining men, who really didn't need him to say anything.  
  
"Face called her yesterday, said he wouldn't be there for a couple days. Said he was going to see Father Magill first." Hannibal quickly dialed again. "May I speak with Father Magill, please? It's important... Father? John Smith. Have you seen Fa...Templeton?...Okay, no, I thought he was headed your way...no, Father, nothing to worry about. Just a little mix-up...no, no, he's fine. Really...Yeah, I'll have him call you when he gets back. Bye, Father.  
  
"I think I know why Carla called off the attack..."  
  
*****  
  
Face slammed his fists against the steering wheel. Damn these rentals! No matter what trick he tried, it would not start. He'd even looked under the hood - fat lot of good that did. He knew the basics but there were too many wires and gizmos under there for him to understand what might be wrong. If BA were here...Well, now what?  
  
He was practically on the farm's front doorstep. He could just walk in and try to weather the storm that would inevitably hit. Or he could hope he'd catch a ride to the airport, hope there was a flight, hope to get to Trish before anyone contacted her, hope for world peace...  
  
He wasn't ready to face the team. He had no idea what he would tell them. It had been stupid, going up against Carla like that with no backup. But it had to be done. If only Hannibal wouldn't have been so damn protective. If he'd just backed up his words with deeds, let Face be a part of the team, like he'd promised. He'd said Face didn't have to do anything he wasn't ready for; Hannibal hadn't said he'd be prevented from trying.  
  
He could feel the resentment building. Twenty-four hours ago he'd felt grateful to still be on the team. Now he felt betrayal. Hannibal had pushed him into doing what he hadn't wanted to. He hadn't made it Face's choice. If only Hannibal had...well, it didn't matter now. What had to be done was done. Now he'd have to accept the consequences.  
  
In the meantime, he had to decide where he was going. He looked down the road, toward the farm gate. No, he couldn't go back there just yet. That left Maggie's or the airport. No way he'd go to Maggie's. It sounded bad, but he was not going to run to her for protection like a scared kid. No, he was supposed to be going to Barlow Creek, so he would. He wanted to see Trish again. He really did. Maybe seeing somebody that had no clue about the past months would give him a chance to get straightened out. Really think clearly about things.  
  
He looked one last time for the damn gun but still couldn't find it. He didn't like leaving it laying around somewhere, for anybody to find, but he had no clue where he'd left it. It was getting late. The sun had been up for a couple hours, at least. He had to get going, get to the airport. Get to Barlow Creek. Get to Trish. Trish was always so level headed, a strong person but not a stubborn one. Like Mama B. That's what he needed right now.  
  
He started walking.  
  
*****  
  
BA was the first to spot it. It was ingrained in him, after all these years, to look for the oddities as he drove, the things that didn't fit, the things that could be dangerous for the team. And so the steady glint just off the roadbed caught his attention almost immediately. Without a word he pulled the van to the side of the road. Hannibal and Murdock followed as he got out and headed for the glinting object.  
  
Face's gun. Lying in the dirt. Quickly BA popped the cartridge. Empty. Sniffed the barrel. Nothing. It had not been fired recently. What the hell did that mean? Why was it here? Where was Face? Silently he shoved the gun into Hannibal's hand and moved purposely back to the van. Barely waiting for the other two men, he started the van and moved down the road.  
  
Face was here somewhere. And Carla did not have him. Carla would not have left his gun. Carla would not have left anything.  
  
*****  
  
He had been walking forever. Didn't anyone ever come down this road? No, of course not. One of the prerequisites Maggie had looked for. Solitude. No friendly neighbors stopping by at the wrong time. No one coming by, seeing Face at his worst. No disturbances. That was why no one had called the authorities last night. No one had been close enough to hear anything more than distant rumbling, possibly some firecrackers shot off by kids. Isolated. That's the way the team wanted it. So Face kept walking.  
  
The feelings of dread were still there. He kept reminding himself that what he had done had been necessary. He'd seen beyond the Jazz. He knew Carla was playing for keeps this time, that she would hit with a fury the team had not witnessed since Nam. That's how Carla was. He'd known that for a long time. Long before his overseas trip. He was a good judge of character. He was good at reading people. That's what made him a good conman. And he'd seen how Carla had watched Stockwell. On many occasions. He'd known her loyalties were not with the man but with the organization. And the team - and Face in particular - had come dangerously close to destroying that organization. The only way to stop her revenge mode was to pose a deeper threat to that god of hers if she continued. It had been necessary.  
  
But would Hannibal accept that? Would Hannibal accept that Face was the only one who could stop her? Would Hannibal accept that Face did not intend to be shut out when he was needed?  
  
The hell with him if he couldn't. Face was going to hold him to his words.  
  
*****  
  
The van had only gone a short distance when the abandoned rental car was found. Hidden very well behind a billboard. No sign of whoever had had it, but it didn't take much guessing. Who else would be out here, in hiding?  
  
BA didn't bother trying to unlock it, just wrapped his elbow with his shirt and busted the driver's window. He turned the key - nothing. Opened the hood. Immediately saw the loose wire. Sabotage? Maybe, maybe not. Those things happened.  
  
"Anything, BA?"  
  
"Nothin that means anythin, Hannibal. How 'bout inside?"  
  
"Nothing. Had to be Face, though."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They piled back in the van and headed out once more.  
  
"He come out here on his own, Hannibal."  
  
"Yeah. Damn him. I told him..."  
  
"You told him he was still a part of the team, Hannibal. And then you sent him away. What did you think he was going to do?"  
  
"You might have mentioned that little insight yesterday, Captain."  
  
"If I'd'a had it yesterday, I would've, Colonel." He smiled at Hannibal's glare. "He hoodwinked us all with that complacent act. Don't blame yourself. And don't blame him, either. He just did what comes naturally. Protected the team."  
  
"He could've told me."  
  
"Yeah, right." Murdock mumbled those words, knowing Hannibal heard him but would pretend not to. He knew Hannibal had been stewing over the way he'd talked to Face. Murdock intended to keep that simmering until they found him. It would be easier for Face that way.  
  
*****  
  
By the time he heard the van coming up behind him, he didn't care. He didn't know how many miles he'd walked. The sun was hot, he'd had nothing to drink or eat since yesterday afternoon. He knew he was in trouble. Not from Hannibal. Even that he would gladly take now. It was the other. The visions, images, those hellish things he kept seeing. The hotter the sun, the higher the blood rose.  
  
I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't! I didn't kill any one. I didn't even load the damn gun. I was saving my team. I didn't hurt her. I just scared her a little. Woman has ice water in her veins. Doesn't matter. I didn't kill her.  
  
The van pulled up beside him, slowing down, matched his pace. He ignored it as long as he could. Stopped. The side door opened.  
  
"Get in, Lieutenant."  
  
He stood for a moment, staring at the ground. The blood was seeping away. He sighed. It took a couple tries and finally Murdock's hand to get into the van. He sank into his seat, took the water bottle Murdock handed him with shaky hands. No one said a word. He handed the bottle back, laid his head on the back of the seat, closed his eyes. Slept.  
  
The van turned around slowly, headed back to the farm.


	76. Chapter 76

Face was out of the van almost before BA brought it to a stop at the house. He'd awakened as they pulled into the drive, although he'd kept his eyes closed. His teammates stared after him as he strode through the front door.  
  
"Help BA put the van away, Captain." Hannibal was in no mood for arguments. BA and Murdock looked at each other. This was not going to be pretty, and neither was sure if they should intercede or not.  
  
Hannibal stopped inside the door, listening. He heard movement in Face's room and marched in. Face was standing in front of the outer door, looking out at the meadow. The set to his shoulders should have told Hannibal the kind of mindset Face was in, but the Colonel was too angry himself to take notice.  
  
"Care to explain yourself, Lieutenant?"  
  
"I would think that was self-evident, Colonel. The threat to the team had to be eliminated. I took care of that."  
  
"What do you mean, eliminated?" Anger gave way to alarm. What had Face done?  
  
"I mean, she will no longer be interfering with the team. We reached an understanding. She leaves us alone, I leave her alone. Very simple." He turned and looked at Hannibal. There was a hint of something dangerous in his eyes. "You see, I took you at your word, Colonel. As a member of the team, I did what I could. Since you refused to allow me to work with you - as a member of the team - I worked in tandem with you. Granted, it was without your knowledge, but that's not my problem. You set up the ground rules."  
  
"Not your problem? You disobeyed a direct order, Lieutenant. You could have..."  
  
"You need to make up your mind, Colonel! Either I'm on the team or I'm not. Don't send me off like a child one minute and then bitch about disobeying orders the next. Do you think I'm blind or deaf? I heard what went on last night - I saw what the grounds and house look like. I saved your ass, Colonel. It would have been nice to have some backup to do that, but turns out I didn't need it. I handled it just fine on my own, thank you. Just like I did for Stockwell."  
  
"Face, I didn't send you off like a child! It was for our protection as well as yours. I told you..."  
  
"I know what you told me, Colonel. How you'd be proud to have me on the team, even if I never did anything more for the team! How it was up to me to decide what I was ready for! Were those just words, Colonel? Something to make him feel better? Something to keep him in line?"  
  
Hannibal felt his skin start to crawl. "Face, I meant every word I said. I swear I did. I didn't think you were ready to confront Carla. Obviously that was a mistake. I should have listened to you. I...I'm sorry, Face."  
  
"You don't trust me, do you, Hannibal? That's the whole story. You wanted me to tell you what happened over there, and you swore I wouldn't lose you. But I did, didn't I? You may want to believe what you said, but deep down, you don't trust me. Because of what I did."  
  
"No, Face, that's not true."  
  
"Isn't it? What about Carla? What did you think I meant when I said I'd eliminated the threat to the team? You thought I'd killed her, didn't you?"  
  
Hannibal couldn't answer. That was exactly what he'd thought. The anger disappeared from Face's eyes, replaced by an infinite sadness. For a long moment the two men stood gazing at each other.  
  
"I never loaded the gun, Hannibal." He turned to the door. "I'll be leaving for Trish's tomorrow. Alone. I need time to think. Maybe we both do." Face walked out of the door, heading for his refuge. Hannibal almost went after him. Almost.  
  
Instead, he turned and walked out the front door, passing BA and Murdock without even acknowledging them. They watched as he wandered out to the renovated barn. They had never seen Hannibal looking so lost. It took only a look for the two men to decide. BA hurried after Hannibal; Murdock went after Face, knowing he was probably in the meadow.  
  
Hannibal was standing in the barn, looking vaguely around at the newly finished structure. He'd had such plans for this place. The ultimate team camp. A place where they could all meet and train, go over strategies, prepare for clients. Murdock would have his piloting career, BA his children's center, and they would come whenever the team was needed. And Hannibal had assumed he and Face would live here. But that had been when Face was so ill. Now, well, now he didn't know that anyone would live here.  
  
He heard BA come in behind him. His sergeant didn't say anything, just stood there watching Hannibal.  
  
"I blew it, BA. Face thinks I don't trust him, because of what he told me about the killings. He thinks I lied to him. For a minute, I thought the other guy had come back, that's how angry he was. And hurt. I hurt him badly, BA."  
  
"He'll come around, Hannibal. He always does."  
  
"No, he always did before. Not now. Before, he knew that I trusted him, no matter how angry we got at each other. Now he doesn't."  
  
"Do you trust him, Hannibal?"  
  
"I thought I did, BA. But I honestly don't know any more..."  
  
*****  
  
Face was wandering through the meadow, aimlessly picking at the tall grass, pulling a dead blossom off an occasional flower stem. His shoulders were slumped, steps desultory. Murdock watched him quietly for a few moments before stepping up near him.  
  
"Hey, Face. You okay?"  
  
Face stopped, looked around the meadow. He didn't feel like talking and yet he needed to. He was so full of contradictions.  
  
"It's all jumbled up, Murdock. I don't know who I am any more. One minute I think I'm just me, the way I used to be. Next minute, there's so much anger inside - I can feel myself disappear in it. And other times I just feel cold, like there's no feelings at all." He absently stripped the bark off a small twig he held. "No wonder Hannibal doesn't trust me. I don't trust me."  
  
"Whoa, wait a minute. What do you mean, Hannibal doesn't trust you? Where did that come from?"  
  
"He thought I'd killed Carla. I didn't, Murdock. I held a gun to her head, and I threatened her. But the gun wasn't loaded. I never loaded it."  
  
Murdock studied his friend. There was something more to this. "Why didn't you load it, Face?"  
  
"I learned my lesson, Murdock. I didn't need to fall apart with Carla and her thugs around."  
  
"Is that the only reason, Face?"  
  
Again, Face stared out across the meadow. Broke the twig, twisted it.  
  
"I was afraid..."  
  
"Afraid of what, Face?" Murdock's voice was soft, comforting.  
  
"Afraid that if I loaded it, I'd have no reason not to kill her." There. It was out.  
  
"Do you really think you could have killed her?"  
  
"I don't know, Murdock! That's just it. Out there, when I lost it, I didn't think I'd ever be able to shoot again. But when I went out and found the gun, and held it, and I had a reason to need it...it was different. And when I was with Carla, holding the gun up to her head, it felt...I felt good, Murdock. I felt strong. And I wanted to pull the trigger. I wanted her dead." He threw down the twig. "Hannibal's right not to trust me any more, Murdock. I don't know what I would do if we got into a firefight. I don't think I'd want to just put the bad guys away. I'm scared that I'd just blast away and kill 'em. Be done with it. The idea of taking a life doesn't bother me any more. No more than breaking that branch and throwing it away. It's just a branch.  
  
"I'm going to go visit Trish tomorrow. Maybe being away from all this stuff will give me a chance to pull things together again. At least figure out what I need to do now." He turned and headed back toward the house.  
  
Murdock remained, gazing out at the meadow. He'd seen men like this, after Nam. Life meant nothing to them; they'd seen so much death and horror that death was just another 'thing' that happened. Some went even further. They developed a blood lust, became mercenaries, became criminals. They were few and far between, but they were out there. Murdock could not believe that his friend could feel that way. Because he hadn't loaded the gun.  
  
*****  
  
Face stayed in his room the rest of the day and that night. Murdock knocked on his door for meals, but he just said he wasn't hungry. He opened his door only once, to ask BA if he would take him to the airport in the morning.  
  
Hannibal spent the rest of the day surveying the damage with BA. Both Murdock and BA tried to talk to him about Face, tried to get him to talk to him again, but he rebuffed all efforts.  
  
"He needs some time to himself." He looked at his remaining men. "BA, there's no reason for you to stay. Or you, Murdock. Time to get back to your real lives. I'll call Trish, explain things to her. If we get any clients, I'll call you." He walked away, business-like, continuing to make notes on repairs. Any further attempts at discussion were dismissed.  
  
The next morning, Face was dismayed to find both BA and Murdock packed and ready to leave. Hearing the reason why from Murdock, he went in search of Hannibal and found him in the barn.  
  
"Hannibal, what's going on? Why are you sending BA and Murdock away?"  
  
Hannibal didn't look up from the papers he'd been shuffling about on the desk. "There's no reason for them to stay now. BA only came back for Molly and Joe; Murdock's been out of circulation way too long. They need to get on with their lives again. They'll come back if I need them." Face noted that he had not been included in the last statement.  
  
"Hannibal, I...I just have to sort things out. I didn't mean to shout at you yesterday. I understand why you can't trust me any more. I really do."  
  
This time Hannibal did look up.  
  
"Face, I want you to know that I do trust you, to a point. But until I know that you're in control of things, and not going to give it over to...well, it's just too dangerous. I meant it when I said you would always be part of the team. But after this thing with Carla...you shouldn't have done it, Face. There were too many things that could have gone wrong. Yes, it worked out this time, but I have to know that you'll be where I tell you to be. Maybe I was wrong to send you away, but you should have gone anyway."  
  
Face looked hard at Hannibal. "If I hadn't gone after Carla, the three of you would be dead, Hannibal. Pure and simple. I couldn't take that. Any more than I could when Stockwell came to me. Regardless of the outcome for me, I could no more run from Carla than I could refuse Stockwell. That's just the way it is." He looked down at his feet. "I wish I didn't have to go now, Hannibal. I don't like leaving things like they are between us. But I have to. I have to get things straightened out upstairs."  
  
"Face, you take all the time you need. We may have some things to work out, but I...I still care, kid. That hasn't changed."  
  
Face gave Hannibal a bittersweet smile, turned on his heel and walked out. Hannibal had already said his farewells to the others. He stood in the barn door, and watched as they drove away from the farm. It seemed as though the silence would never end.


	77. Chapter 77

Face rested on the stone wall in front of Trish's home. The last four days had been like none he could remember. He felt so totally relaxed, it was like he was someone else. Someone who had never had a problem in his life. Ray's son, now a strapping six-year-old, sat next to him, 'jabbering' on about t-ball and first grade and all the animals he'd 'collected' this summer. The boy had spent every moment he could with his newly found 'Uncle Tem', and Face found himself just as eager for these times with the talkative little dynamo.  
  
Face had worried about Trish on the flight back to Barlow Creek. He didn't know what Hannibal had told her, what she might have guessed, what she expected. He needn't have worried. Trish welcomed him warmly and the only reference she made to his 'troubles' were a quick, sincere, "If you want to talk, I'll listen." He hadn't yet taken her up on it, and she had not pushed it. They relaxed together, talking about Ray, about the team, about everything (else) and nothing. Not once had the visions interrupted.  
  
This was just what he had needed. Not the anonymity of LA, nor the near-claustrophobic circle of friends at the farm. Here he had room to breathe, a friend who would listen if he wanted to talk, talk when he wanted to listen, and was quiet when he needed that. Not to mention a little boy who was so full of life and love it made Face grateful to be alive himself.  
  
He began to think he had found a place to stay.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock watched as Hannibal stepped to the front window for what had to be the fiftieth time that day. He was trying to be very casual about it, but his apprehension was obvious to everyone. Murdock glanced over at BA, who was watching the football game. Supposedly. But Murdock had seen him stealing glances at the window, almost as often as Hannibal's side trips. The only real activity was in the kitchen, where Maggie and Mrs. B. were busy preparing the Thanksgiving feast. Hannibal had given up his usual duties as cook for this year, graciously surrendering to the ladies. Murdock was starting to wish the ladies hadn't insisted so strongly. At least cooking would have given the Colonel something to do besides waiting for the last member to arrive.  
  
It had been agreed before they all left that they would get together at the farm for Thanksgiving. Face had known this, and everyone was waiting, hoping, that he would show up. But as the day came closer, there was still no word. Thanksgiving Day arrived with no sign of him. Maggie and Mama had deliberately planned for a late afternoon meal, hoping that would give Face time to arrive. As the morning hours passed into afternoon, Hannibal became more and more agitated. Everyone was trying hard to stay calm for him, but it was getting harder and harder.  
  
Murdock was starting to get too restless. He couldn't keep from tapping his foot impatiently. Soon followed by his hand tapping gently on the chair. He wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to run out the front door, down the road and know exactly where Face was and go get him and drag him back home where he belonged.  
  
Mainly he just wanted to know where his best friend was.  
  
*****  
  
He wasn't sure what happened. One minute he was working the hook loose from the boy's just-caught fish; the next, his world was filled with fish heads, hooks, body parts, all swirling in a bloody froth. How long he stayed in the maelstrom, he didn't know. He was brought back by Trish calling his name, pulling at his arm. He closed his eyes, mentally shaking himself, opened them to find Trish pale and worried, the boy crying and frightened. He let Trish take the fish, now thoroughly mutilated by the hook, absently wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked down at Ray's son, started to say something to him, but the boy ran. Didn't stop running until he had slammed into the house.  
  
"Don't worry, Face, he'll be okay. I'll talk to him. He just got scared when you...wouldn't answer him."  
  
"I'm sorry, Trish. I don't know what happened."  
  
"I said, don't worry about it. Little boys have very short memories. He'll be fine in a little while." She turned, picking up the boy's tackle box and pole. "C'mon back to the house, we'll get something to drink, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute, Trish."  
  
She looked at him for just a moment, nodded, smiled and headed back to the house. Face watched her walk away. She was wrong, of course. Little boys had very good memories. Especially of things that frightened them.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you worried about seeing him again, Mama?" Maggie watched the other woman as she rolled the last biscuit into shape, ready for the oven. Neither had mentioned Face yet, not all day.  
  
Mama laid the biscuit carefully on the pan. She stared at it for quite some time before answering.  
  
"I don't know as I'd call it worried, Maggie. When Scooter and I first went back home, I didn't feel good about him. I'd seen a part of him I didn't never think I would. It took a long time to git over that. Then Scooter had to come back here to help that lady and her husband. He told me a few things about Face when he came back, and I felt bad, real bad, for leavin him the way I did." She turned and looked at Maggie, sorrow in her eyes. "I shoulda listened to you, Maggie, 'stead'a gettin on my high horse. I know that boy, and I shoulda remembered that. So, no, I'm not worried. I'm anxious. 'Cause I owe him an apology. I hope he comes back so I can give it to him. I hope he'll accept it."  
  
Maggie reached over and hugged the older woman. "I wouldn't worry about that, Mama. He loves you, you know. And he understands about mistakes."  
  
*****  
  
What happened?  
  
Don't know, kid. Guess I let my guard down too much, too early.  
  
So now what?  
  
So now I gotta work a little harder. Gotta give me a little more elbow room, kid.  
  
Just a little.  
  
Yeah, kid. Just a little.  
  
"Face, is someone here?" Trish stepped out to the porch, looking quizzically around. "Oh, I thought I heard voices."  
  
"Maybe the TV?" Face didn't look at her.  
  
"Hmm, maybe. Anyway, supper will be ready soon. Don't go anywhere."  
  
"I'll be right here, Trish. Don't worry." He turned then, smiled at her. She returned the smile as she went back inside the house.  
  
Get it under control.  
  
Don't worry, kid. Piece of cake.  
  
The little boy stayed away from Face that first night. Trish looked apologetically at him, but he just shook his head. He understood. Not a problem. But it was, really. It hurt that he had frightened the boy so badly. It wasn't right. The next morning the boy was almost like he had been before. A little hesitant to come close to Face, but he did eventually go to him. Face hadn't lost him completely. As long as he could keep control. And things were under control again. There were no more incidents in the next few days.  
  
But it was hard to maintain that tight control when you were asleep.  
  
It started innocently enough. He was back in the meadow, walking alongside the boy and Hannibal. The little boy was laughing, running back and forth, bringing Face different things he'd found to look at. Hannibal grinned along with Face at some of the strange flowers and bugs brought proudly for their perusal. And then the little boy brought Face a hand. No blood left in it, just a dismembered hand. Face looked at the boy, then Hannibal, in horror. The boy giggled, Hannibal chuckled.  
  
"See if you can find the rest, kid." Hannibal sent the boy running off for more 'treasure'.  
  
"No, no, don't, come back here!" Face was frantic. He didn't want the little boy finding such things. But he did. Faster and faster, the little cherub-like figure came rushing back with more and more bits and pieces of human bodies, Hannibal laughing harder and louder each time, encouraging the boy. Face threw the pieces as far as he could, but they were piling up. Soon fresher parts were brought, blood still dripping from them.  
  
Face started running, first trying to catch the boy, stop him. The boy just laughed harder, making it a game to find more pieces before Uncle Tem could catch him. Finally, Face started running away, running for the edge of the field, running to get away. But there were too many body parts, too much blood. He fell, sliding into the muck, covered with it...  
  
He woke screaming.  
  
*****  
  
BA stepped up to the window, stood quietly next to Hannibal. The cigar smoke was coming fast and furious, the only outward sign Hannibal was anything but relaxed.  
  
"He'll come, Hannibal. You know that."  
  
"Do I, BA? We didn't exactly part company on the best of terms."  
  
"Yeah, I know. He told us. But he also told us he didn't like leavin you like that, either. If he can git here, he'll be here."  
  
"If he can. That's the thing, BA. We don't know where he is, what he's doing, if he's okay...it's the not knowing..."  
  
BA sighed. There was nothing he could say to that. All he could do was be there for his Colonel. So he stood beside him as they watched through the window.  
  
*****  
  
He let himself out of the front door quietly, careful not to make any noise. He'd left a note, not wanting to worry Trish and yet not wanting to let her know too much, either. He couldn't leave a number or address because he had no idea where he would be. He told her Los Angeles, mainly because she would believe that. He had no idea where he was going. He just knew he had to leave here, before he caused the same kinds of problems he'd caused at the farm. It would be far worse here. There was the boy to consider.  
  
He walked quickly away from the house, from the town. Remembering how the team had been able to trace his financial trail before, he would not use those funds again. It made him severely short of ready cash, but it wasn't as if he couldn't work. Well, being one-handed made the market a little more narrow, but that was okay. He didn't need that much anyway.  
  
He got to the edge of town and caught a ride with a young farmer. That took him almost 30 miles. The next ride was a middle-aged insurance agent. That took him out of the state. He never asked where his rides were taking him. Wherever they wanted to go, he went. When the ride was over, he thanked them and looked for the next one. Sometimes they bought him lunch or dinner. Sometimes he delved into his meager cash. He always looked for work wherever he ended up; sometimes he got some, sometimes not. Usually it was some menial job; white collar, higher paying jobs required a resume, references. He could have come up with something but that was okay. It didn't matter. He didn't need that much. Enough for a few meals along the way. And it was always along the way.  
  
To live this way would have shocked his teammates, would have shocked anyone who knew him. But it suited him now. He was tired of scams. He was tired of missions. He was tired of the toll that way of life had taken. As long as he was without possessions, without a lot of money, without any ties, he could feel free. And as long as he felt free, he had no more visions. No more nightmares. He locked away Face, and Templeton Peck, and Alvin Brenner. "Hey you" was as much of a name as he needed now.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal thought about Trish's phone call a little over a week after Face had arrived. She had told him things seemed to go very well at first. There were times when Face would appear distant or preoccupied, but nothing she worried about. And Face and her son had taken to each other immediately. About the fifth day Trish thought he'd had one of what Hannibal had referred to as a "spell". Within a couple more days he began to have nightmares. Bad ones. After three nights of these, she'd awakened one morning to find him gone. He'd left a short note, thanking her, and stating he was going back to Los Angeles. He hadn't left an address or phone number.  
  
He'd called BA, hoping Face had shown up in Chicago. No luck. Likewise with Father Magill. When Hannibal had called Murdock, he knew the stress must have come through in his voice. Murdock had immediately flown down. That was good; Hannibal had started taking his frustrations out on Maggie. He was also glad that the pilot would be on the spot if any news came. BA had called every day, sometimes twice, to find out if anyone had heard from Face. That had been three weeks ago. No one had heard from him since then.


	78. Chapter 78

He'd gone way too far north. Way too far. It was cold. Windy. They ran into snow somewhere south of North Platte. Where the hell was North Platte? Nebraska. No. Not Nebraska. Shit.  
  
He'd fallen asleep in the overheated cab of the 18-wheeler that picked him up at a truck stop near Springfield, Missouri. He'd had a hell of a time finding a ride before that. Had walked for miles. He'd literally stumbled into the cafe at the truck stop. Luckily, he'd fallen against an older guy, not some hot shot. After Face apologized, the guy told him shut up and sit down, get something to eat. The driver reminded him of BA. He'd had to count out his money before looking at the menu. He kept thinking of the money tucked away in all those accounts. But he wouldn't touch that. It wasn't his any more.  
  
The trucker watched him, grabbed the menu and gave the waitress the order. Face tried to protest at the enormity of the meal, but the trucker just told him to shut up again. They didn't say another word until Face had finished eating and the trucker paid for both meals. He looked Face up and down, growled, "C'mon, then," and headed out to his truck. Face had fallen asleep in the first few miles and hadn't awakened until they pulled into a warehouse lot.  
  
Somewhere south of North Platte, Nebraska. Where it was cold, windy, and snowing.  
  
The trucker mumbled something about having to head back the way they'd come. Face didn't think it would be wise to ask to ride along. The old trucker shoved a twenty into Face's hand, told him to get a coat at the Salvation Army, they were cheap. Looked at him one more time, then looked off into the distance. "Got one 'bout your age. Don't know where he is. Dead, most likely." Stiffly got back in his truck and drove off.  
  
Face looked around. He could see the city skyline not that far away, a few miles. Adjusting his duffel and shoving his hands in his pockets, he started walking.  
  
He didn't know it, but it was the day after Thanksgiving.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was up at the break of dawn. He dressed quietly so as not to wake the rest of the house. Down the stairs, past the kitchen. Peeked into Face's room. Shoulders sagged. Empty.  
  
He moved into the living room. He thought so. Carefully he placed the afghan over the silver haired man sleeping on the couch. The shades were still up, so he gently pulled them down before the light came in to wake Hannibal. He took one last, sad look at him before going into the kitchen. He quickly started a pot of coffee, made some toast, which he left half eaten on the table.  
  
The meal yesterday had been agony. He supposed the food was actually good, but it had all tasted like cardboard to him. Hannibal had tried to put up a good front, but he also left his plate almost untouched. BA had eaten, but Murdock knew it was only because he knew Mama would be watching him especially. When he thought about it, even Mama and Maggie had eaten sparingly. A lot of leftovers.  
  
After dinner, things had gotten worse. There really was nothing to occupy them then. They had all sat in the living room for a while, trying to make conversation. Hannibal had gotten a couple inquiries from potential clients, but was still checking them out. He hadn't said it took longer without Face. Didn't have to. He'd know in a few days if they'd be taking either of the jobs. BA had said he might as well stick around then, and Mama said that was fine with her. Murdock then said he didn't have anything urgent so he could wait, too. Silence descended on the group.  
  
Eventually, Maggie said she had to head back to her place. Mama announced she was going to bed, the dishes could wait until tomorrow for once. BA and Murdock stayed after it was plain that Hannibal was going to wait up. Just in case. They had given up shortly after midnight. Hannibal had said a distracted good night, standing by the window. Watching.  
  
Murdock looked once more into Face's room, as if expecting him to have magically appeared in the last twenty minutes. Then he shrugged on his jacket and headed for the meadow.  
  
*****  
  
He was so cold. There was a lot of traffic, surprisingly so, but no one was stopping for hitchhikers. It took him well over an hour to move into the city proper. The sidewalks were filled with people, and it didn't take a genius to realize they were in a frenzy of Christmas shopping. He saw a sign in a window. Stopped short. Good Lord. He was shocked to discover the day.  
  
He turned away, suddenly feeling sick at heart. He hadn't even thought about the holiday. He thought about Hannibal now. Murdock, BA. They'd always spent Thanksgiving together. Always. Except once. Last year. Last year's hell.  
  
He should call. He should do that at least. Let them know he was okay. He had the number for the farm in his wallet. Just in case. He had to find a phone. Inside. He was too cold to stand around outside. He hurried from store to store, asking for a pay phone. Stupid people. Why didn't they have pay phones inside? Pushing through the throngs, into hot stores, out into the cold, back through the herds of shoppers into the overheated stores once more. Finally, he came to a small cafe, with a public phone at the back.  
  
He got change from the cashier and made his way back to the phone. He pulled out the paper with the phone number on it. His fingers shook as he dropped the coins in the slot, whether from the cold or nervousness he didn't know.  
  
Carefully he dialed the number, calling collect. He didn't have enough money for a direct call, not if he wanted to get a warmer coat and something to eat. He waited while the phone rang and rang. There must be someone there. Unless...had they gone to BA's, in Chicago? No, he was sure they were going to meet at the farm.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The operator's machine-like voice came on, asking if they would accept the call.  
  
"Yes! Yes! Face! Is that you? Where are you? Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, Hannibal. I'm okay. I'm sorry. I should've called sooner."  
  
"Where the hell are you? What have you been doing?"  
  
"Uh, well, I'm in North Platte, if you can believe that. I, uh, I've just kinda been hitchhiking around for a while."  
  
"Hitchhiking! What the hell...?" Face could hear Murdock in the background. Giving Hannibal hell, from the tone of his voice. There was a shuffling, then Murdock came on the line.  
  
"Face? Where are you, buddy?"  
  
"North Platte. Nebraska."  
  
"What are you doing there, Face?" Not angry, very calm. Curious.  
  
"Well, I guess I got here by accident. I hitched a ride with a trucker and fell asleep and woke up here."  
  
"So you really have been hitchhiking? Why?"  
  
Face sighed. He didn't want to have to explain things to everybody. "Look, I just called to let you know I'm okay. I didn't realize what day it was or I woulda called yesterday. Sorry."  
  
"You didn't know it was Thanksgiving? Face, are you okay? Really?"  
  
"Yeah, Murdock, really. I...I'm better than I've been for a long time. No more...things, you know?" He glanced around but the diners weren't paying any attention to him.  
  
"Well, that's good, Face. That's real good. Uh, Face? When you coming home?"  
  
That stopped him. He hadn't considered going back to the farm. "I, uh, I don't know, Murdock."  
  
BA came on the line then. Face figured he'd be angry. Real angry.  
  
"Hey, Face." Another surprise. BA's voice was quiet. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, BA. I just...I can't come back yet."  
  
"Hannibal said you in Nebraska. You want me to pick you up on the way back to Chicago? I got a spare room."  
  
Face almost said yes. But he wasn't ready for that yet. He needed to make sure he was really free first.  
  
"Thanks, BA, but I can't. Not yet."  
  
"Okay. Mama wanted you to know, she's sorry she left like she did."  
  
"Tell her not to worry about it, okay?"  
  
"Okay. You got my number, right?"  
  
"Yeah, BA."  
  
Hannibal came on again. "Face, I think you should come home, kid. We can work things out."  
  
"It's not that, Hannibal. I just need some time yet. Okay?"  
  
He heard Hannibal's deep sigh. "Okay, kid. But let me know how you're doing, okay? Where you are now and then?"  
  
"Sure, Hannibal. I'll do that. Look, I gotta go now."  
  
Quick goodbyes. Dial tone. Face hung up the phone. Headed back out to the street. It was so cold. He stopped in the midst of the crowd. He knew he wouldn't call them again.  
  
The blood had frozen to all the people...  
  
*****  
  
"So now what, Hannibal? Try to find him agin?"  
  
"No, BA. He doesn't want to be found. And he doesn't want to come home. Until he does, there's no point in going after him." Hannibal sighed, lit a cigar. "He's found some peace, I guess, rambling around like this. I guess he's entitled to that. No, damn it, he is entitled to that." He looked at his remaining men. "We'll do what we've always done. Take care of the bad guys. Live our lives. When he's ready, he'll come back."  
  
Hannibal stepped out into the yard. Stared out at the meadow. Moved determinedly toward the barn where his office was now. Mumbling to himself, "He'll come back."  
  
*****  
  
He never did find the Salvation Army store. He wandered the streets, not daring to talk to anyone. He had stopped one person to ask directions. As the man tried to direct him, Face couldn't make out the words because of the blood pouring from the man's mouth. He walked away while the man was in mid-sentence.  
  
"Guy's nuts..." the man grumbled.  
  
He had to get back on the road. He had to get away from all these people. Had to get free again.  
  
He never should have called them. Never should have gotten dragged back into that trap. He understood why he kept seeing the blood now. It was them. They were the reason he'd killed those people. They were the reason. Not Stockwell. Stockwell had only used him. If it hadn't been for them...they were the reason he'd destroyed himself. To save them.  
  
To save himself, he had to leave them. Completely. Totally. Irrevocably...


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of train hopping is liberally lifted from the article "Trainhopping", by Matthew Power for Blue: The Adventure Lifestyle, Vol 3, No. 6 (December 2000- January 2001). Used with permission. http://www.northbankfred.com/blue.html

He woke up to the sounds of snoring men. And a lump under his back where the mattress bunched. The pillow smelled of antiseptic soap. He pulled his boots out from under the blanket, safeguarded from the other men. Quietly slipping them on, he pulled the old knapsack out from the other side of the bed, where it had rested behind his knees all night. He was stiff, sore, hungry. Looking at the faint light coming through the window, he knew it would be a couple hours before they served what they called breakfast. Two eggs and 1 slice of toast, all the acidic coffee you could stomach. He wouldn't wait for that. He wanted to get out of this place. Out of this town.  
  
Whatever town it was. Oh yeah. North Platte. God.  
  
He stepped carefully between the bunks, hoping not to wake anyone. He opened the door to the bathroom. God. The smell quashed any appetite he might have had. Too many drunks here. Way too many. He hurried to the front door, quietly opened it and slipped out. Freezing out here. He'd come down with a bad cold. He hadn't even tried hitching a ride. Today he would look for work, again. If he couldn't find any, he'd just start walking. If he had to walk all the way to Texas, he would. He wanted to be where it was warm. But not the west coast. He was steering clear of that. Completely.  
  
He stopped at a gas station, used their bathroom. One look in the mirror told him one reason it was hard for him to catch a ride. It had been a while since he'd had a shave or haircut. The last shower he could remember was a couple weeks before, at a truck stop. Nip and tuck there. They didn't like it when non-customers used their facilities. He'd have tried to shave right then and there in the gas station, but these people got nervous if you were in there too long. Didn't want people using their bathrooms to shoot up, or whatever. He straightened himself up as best he could and headed out. He thought about grabbing a couple doughnuts and a pop on his way out but decided against it. He hadn't resorted to stealing yet.  
  
He headed down toward the state employment agency. Hadn't had any luck there yet. Small wonder. He checked the stores and businesses along the way, looking for help wanted signs. That was getting tougher, too. A few scattered cleanup jobs, the only ones people were willing to give a bum. And of course, doing that kind of work didn't exactly help with his hygiene. Damn.  
  
You don't have to live this way. You could go back to the team.  
  
You know why I don't do that. Forget it now. Before they come back.  
  
Why not go back to Trish then? She'd take you back.  
  
No. She's too close to them. Can't take a chance on hurting the kid.  
  
Yeah, but we could...  
  
No. I'll find a job, or catch a ride. Something. Now shut up.  
  
Sure, kid.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock landed the plane softly, easily. He loved this job. Even more now. When he was flying he could forget all his earthbound problems and worries. Not to mention being able to choose, many times anyway, where he went. Today's flight was special. He'd seen the schedule and immediately sought out the pilot who was supposed to have flown it. It'd cost him, once the other pilot realized how much he wanted it, but that was okay. He was here now. He could take a few days, do some checking. Probably wouldn't find anything, but at least he was closer. Grand Island, Nebraska. Just a hop, skip and a jump from North Platte. Not that he figured Face was still there. But Grand Island was on the main trucking route from there. Murdock had a better chance being in Nebraska than in California. It was worth a shot.  
  
He found a motel close to the airport and collected a couple local maps. Rented a car. Got a quick carry-out lunch and sat down on the bed with the food and maps in front of him. Started looking for truck stops, rest areas, anywhere a man would go to hitch a quick ride. In his duffel he had dozens of copies of Face's picture. Hannibal had said let Face go, he'd come back when he was ready. Murdock wasn't ready to do that. Not until he saw him. Not until he heard it from the horse's mouth.  
  
Murdock was stubborn that way.  
  
*****  
  
He'd had no luck at the employment office. Hadn't figured he would. Couldn't even get a daily job. But he had lucked out on catching a ride. Waited in front of one of the lower priced hotels. He knew he was close to having the cops called by the manager, but he kept pestering the people coming out with baggage until finally a guy agreed to give him a lift. Some kind of salesman. He kept his mouth shut during most of the ride. Which was okay because the salesman talked enough for both of them. He was dropped off in Maxwell. East of North Platte, about 17 miles. The next big town, Grand Island, less than 150 miles away. He could do that.  
  
He had to get something to eat. He checked his cash. $2.76. Well, it would get him something. He should have waited for breakfast at the shelter. Next time he would curb his impatience to be on the move and take care of practicalities. He bought a doughnut and a bottle of pop. Breakfast and lunch. It would do.  
  
Maxwell was a small town. A very small town. It took him twenty minutes to walk around and realize there would be no shelters here. He would have to find someplace to sleep tonight where he wouldn't freeze to death. Which was not easy in a small town. He figured in the time it took him to walk around the town, there probably wasn't a soul in that town that didn't know a stranger was among them. And not a very welcome stranger, either.  
  
It took the county sheriff exactly 35 minutes to show up after Face was dropped off. At least it solved the problem of a place to sleep that night. Didn't really care for the charge of vagrancy, but a hot meal, warm bed, and a chance to shave and clean up made up for it. Another hot meal in the morning, just before the sheriff drove him to the edge of town and let him know he wouldn't be welcomed back any time soon. Then the sheriff slipped him ten bucks, said good luck and drove away.  
  
There were some very nice things about the Midwest, after all.  
  
*****  
  
There were three truck stops in or near Grand Island. Murdock hit each one, taping several pictures of Face up in each. He'd put BA's phone number on them. It was kind of a plan between the two of them. Hannibal hadn't been told about it. One, they didn't want to get his hopes up. Two, they didn't want to get him mad.  
  
Murdock wondered about Hannibal. He'd changed a lot since Face left. Gotten quieter, more serious. That twinkle in the eye just wasn't there any more. Murdock was afraid the Jazz was gone. Hannibal had decided not to take on the clients he'd looked at Thanksgiving. Didn't really say why. Murdock assumed the cases were either something not that bad, or something the authorities could handle. He hoped it wasn't because Hannibal just wasn't interested.  
  
He and BA had both gotten frustrated when the Colonel didn't want to go looking for Face. He'd confronted Hannibal after the phone call, angry that they weren't immediately heading for North Platte.  
  
"Murdock, it's not that I don't care. I do, believe me. That man's like my own flesh and blood. But you heard how he sounded on the phone. Did you hear any desperation in his voice? Any anger? Anything other than calm? Until we started in about his coming back. He really has found some peace out there, Murdock. I would like nothing better than to race up there and bring him back. I want him here. But do I have the right to do that to him? Take away the peace of mind? Isn't that just being selfish?  
  
"Damn it, Murdock, it hurts. It hurts like hell to have him turn his back on us. But if that's what he has to do right now, to get himself back together, then we have to let him do that. Believe me, Murdock, the second he calls and says he wants to come home, I'm out the door. But it has to be his decision. When he's ready. I can't force him, or try to persuade him. All I can do is let him know he's welcome back whenever."  
  
Murdock hadn't said another word to him about it after that. He and BA made their own plans. They would not force Face back either. But they wanted to try and find him. They had to know where he was, make sure he really was okay. Yeah, it was selfish. Yeah, it was overprotective. Hannibal accepted that Face was a grown man, capable of taking care of himself. He didn't like letting go, but he accepted it. Murdock and BA weren't ready to do that yet. To them, Face was still the young kid who'd stumbled into their lives so many years ago, and it had become second habit for them to look after him. Even though they'd never admit it to themselves, and certainly not let him know it. It was just what they did.  
  
Once he taped the pictures at the truck stops, he started putting them on the trucks themselves, stuck under wipers, in doors, anywhere the driver would find them. Someone, somewhere, would know the man in the picture, and would call them. One way or another, he'd be found.  
  
*****  
  
He started walking. Heard train whistles. Train whistles. He stopped, thinking. He'd never hopped a freight before, but jumping in the van as it raced down the road couldn't be that much different. Granted, he wasn't in the best shape right now, and he'd have to run through a few inches of snow, but what the hell. Riding anything would be better than walking another hundred some miles. He moved quickly toward the small train yard.  
  
He found a spot, just on the edge of the yard. He crouched low, behind some bushes. Waited. There was a whistle, and the low thunder of a train taking up its slack as it headed out. From where the rails vanished behind a copse, the rumbling got louder and, in what seemed like slow motion, the first engine burst into view. He could see the engineer, leaning out the window, his forearm on the sill. Face would have sworn he looked straight at him, even though he was 50 yards away and well hidden. Three more engines passed and he threw his pack on, feeling drunk, blood roaring in his ears along with the clacking of the train as it slowly began to pick up speed.  
  
He scrambled up the embankment by the tracks, the train speeding up.  
  
The cars going by were long grain cars, with ladders and short covered porches, maybe four feet by eight, on both ends. He jogged alongside the train, trying to keep up, the gravel giving way under his feet and the cars sliding by. He placed one hand on a ladder rung and the train jerked ahead, but he held on. The sensation was like having a large dog tugging on its leash. But this dog weighed thousands of tons.  
  
Too late he realized he could never grab hold with his right hand. Desperately, pulling with all his might with his left hand, he tried to put one foot on the bottom rung. It wouldn't reach, so without thinking he put his left foot on the hub around which the flashing silver wheel turned, just behind the ladder. Visions of dismemberment flashed through his head.  
  
Stupid, stupid. He was flying through the air now, held in place by one hand and one foot. He could feel his hand giving way. He swung his right arm up, around the side of the ladder, holding on with the crook of his elbow. He dragged his other foot up against the incredible wind, catching the rung, leaving the ground and trusting his full weight to the train. The disembodied sensation of taking off in an airplane paled compared to catching hold of a train and not letting go. It was like grabbing the landing gear as the plane taxied up the runway.  
  
Suddenly, all the nausea of anticipation was gone and it hit him - the greatest surge of adrenaline he'd ever felt. Even better than the Jazz. The landscape was rushing past him, rails and tracks blurring beneath his feet, wind tearing across his face, through his hair.. He was flying.  
  
"I got it, Murdock! I got it!" He shouted against the wind, laughing out loud at the exhilaration.  
  
He swung around, stepped onto the small porch at the front of the car. An opening, at the back of the porch, was about the size of a manhole cover. Inside was a little crawl space, just big enough for him and his pack. Everything was covered with a thick coating of diesel dust and rust. He squeezed through the hole.  
  
Darkness. The violent shaking of the car. A cacophony of the thousands of pieces of steel that made up the car rattling staccato. It smelled of pigeons. He turned like a breech birth to get his head back out the hole and see the countryside flying by. He sat, scrunched in the opening, heart beating wildly, breath coming in racking gasps. And grinned like a fool...  
  
He sat there for what seemed like hours, unable to take his eyes off of the passing scene. This rolling connection with the landscape was travel reduced to its purest essence. When night fell, he was standing on the porch with a hand on the ladder. If he fell off out here, no one would know. He had become a ghost to the stationary world.  
  
*****  
  
The next morning Murdock was back at the truck stops, sticking pictures on trucks that hadn't been there the day before. Talking to drivers when he saw them. Anyone and everyone. So far he'd come up with nothing. Mid-morning he called BA. No one had called yet. Mama was manning the phone when BA was at the center. If anybody did call, there'd be a human at the other end to ask questions and get the information they needed.  
  
He'd already checked in with the local authorities and hospitals. Nothing there, either. The police were helpful, anyway. Especially after Murdock hinted that his friend wasn't quite "right". Put out a notice to area law enforcement to look out for Face. Murdock left them his number at the motel and BA's, just in case something came up after he left.  
  
Murdock figured he must have talked to a hundred truckers over the last two days and yet, nothing. He stepped up to a truck that had just pulled in. This guy hadn't seen him either. But he did have a suggestion.  
  
"Lots of these guys, they usually take to the rails, y'know. They'll hitchhike, or grab a freight, or even take a legit ride on the bus. Long as they're moving, they're happy, y'know?" A generous wad of chewing tobacco went into the man's cheek. "You go down to the yard, be careful. It's big, it's busy - and the bulls are not nice guys."  
  
"Bulls?"  
  
"Railroad police. Most of 'em are decent fellas, but they got enough of 'em as soon bust your head open as look at you. I've seen 'em at work, when I'd drop loads off down there. It ain't pretty. So watch your step."  
  
"Yeah, thanks, man." Murdock smiled and wandered back to the rental car.  
  
Murdock was starting to think he was on a fool's errand. The chances of finding Face when he had the whole state of Nebraska to look in were so close to zero it made him crazy...  
  
*****  
  
He felt the train slowing, and saw the first signs of Grand Island coming into view. He got ready to jump off; he wasn't so naive as to think his free ride would be looked on benignly by the railroad.  
  
The train had slowed down appreciably by the time it was moving into the yard, and Face had no problem climbing down the ladder and hopping off before it got into the main yard. He grinned once more as he watched it move on. He may not ever hop a freight again, but the rush had definitely been worth it. He still felt it. One day he'd tell Murdock about it.  
  
Well, maybe he'd just write him.  
  
He looked around, trying to figure out the quickest way out of the yard. He saw a row of warehouses off to the side. Knowing there would be truck access, he headed in their direction. He hadn't gone more than ten yards before two men stepped out from behind a storage building. They wore very official looking badges.  
  
Shit.  
  
"Lost, mister?"  
  
"Uh, no, no, just looking around. Railroads are kind of a hobby of mine." He smiled, friendly. Innocent.  
  
"Kind of a dangerous hobby, trains. People can get hurt, messing around where they shouldn't be."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I suppose it could be. But, I just like to look, y'know? Well, I'll be heading out then, fellas."  
  
"Not so fast, mister. You kinda appeared out of nowhere, didn't ya? Almost like you kinda jumped off that train that just pulled in. You know, that's illegal. And, really, really dangerous."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I imagine so, but I was just walking around, watching the trains. Just watching..."  
  
He never got to finish the sentence. The two bulls seemed to swing in tandem. At least it felt that way. He was down before he had a chance to make a fist. He fought to defend himself, but each guy must have outweighed him by a good 50 pounds. They were good with their fists, even better with their boots.  
  
He didn't know how long the beating went on. At one point he felt himself being jerked up, dragged, tossed down again. He lay on the ground, wheezing, choking on the blood running down his throat. He found himself thinking that at least it was real fucking blood this time. Then he passed out.  
  
*****  
  
Somehow, Murdock couldn't see Face hopping a freight. But then, he hadn't pictured the fastidious Face hitchhiking across the country, either. At any rate, he wasn't about to report to BA that there had been one avenue that he hadn't checked out. He headed for the freight yard.  
  
The guy had been right. The yard was huge. He parked off in a corner, by a long row of warehouses at the north end of the yard. Where the hell would you even start looking? He began along the back of the warehouses, walking close, keeping an eye out for 'bulls'. What a name. Probably appropriate. He was searching the yard for trains coming in, for guys who looked like maybe they didn't belong. Hoboes. The people who might have seen, or even met, Face if he decided to ride the rails.  
  
It was almost an hour later. He'd moved to the other side of the yard now. Still watching for bulls or anyone else who might want to interrupt his search. Then he heard it. Moaning. Somewhere behind several stacks of wooden pallets, next to a dilapidated warehouse. Stepping cautiously around the corner of the stacks, he saw him.  
  
*****  
  
He couldn't feel anything but cold. Ungodly cold. Either he was dead, or frozen. Maybe both. He let out a low moan. That was all he could manage.  
  
"Face! C'mon, buddy, we gotta get outta here. Can you stand?"  
  
Murdock? God, he must have really taken a beating this time. He was hearing things. Nevertheless, he tried to get up. Bad move. The world slid to one side and he found himself retching up blood.  
  
"Geez, Face, oh God, we gotta get you to a hospital, man, they beat the shit out of you." He felt arms around him, dragging him up. It was all he could do to stand. Every move hurt like hell.  
  
"C'mon, Face, c'mon, I brought the car, the car's right over here, not far, I promise." He was being towed slowly toward a fuzzy looking brown thing. Must be the car. Who was with him? It sounded like Murdock but that wasn't possible. Just...not...possible...  
  
Everything spun wildly again, and he fell into the abyss...


	80. Chapter 80

"Morning, Face. How you feeling today?"  
  
"Uh-kay." It was hard talking through the wires holding his jaw in place. Two more weeks. That's what Maggie had said yesterday. Two more weeks and the wires would come off. It had been a long six weeks. Two more to go. Thank God.  
  
He was still on pain killers. Lots of them. His left arm was in a cast from the knuckles to just past the elbow. The broken ribs were mainly healed up. His insides - he figured that was pretty much healed up, too, although they kept taking his temperature three to four times a day, still worrying about infection. Now if his head would only clear up. He had a really, really hard time getting words out right. Not just from the wires. He would know what the words were in his head, but they didn't seem to come out of his mouth that way. And he had a hard time remembering things. Maggie said that both would eventually get better, but it would take time.  
  
Hannibal had wanted to press charges against the railroad cops that did it, or find them and teach them a good lesson, but Face couldn't remember what they looked like. He didn't want the team to do anything, anyway. Didn't matter now. The damage was done. Revenge wasn't in him any more. He was sick of that crap.  
  
Murdock moved away from the bed. God, it felt like he'd spent the last year in that bed. Didn't matter. Not any more. He was back at the farm, Murdock and Hannibal hovering over him. Again. Suffocating him. He thought back about the weeks on the road. A smile played on his lips. He would remember those weeks for a long, long time. The freedom. The peace. Thinking about those feelings made him forget the times he was hungry, or cold, or wet, or just tired. It had been worth it. He looked forward to the day he could go back.  
  
And he would go back. He couldn't stay here. Nothing had happened so far, but it would, he knew that. It was the pain killers keeping things at bay now. Keeping his mind fogged so nothing came through, even those things that should. He would have to wait and see what happened when he was finally off them. Then he'd know how soon he'd have to leave.  
  
*****  
  
"How's he doing?" Hannibal looked up from his coffee. He looked tired this morning. Again. Murdock found it hard to reconcile the old man sitting at the table with his Colonel. He'd never thought of Hannibal getting old. But the past months - God, was it almost two years now? - had taken their toll on everyone. Hannibal more than anyone. BA was quieter, Murdock more serious. They had nearly lost their friend and brother. But BA still had his Mama and the kids; Murdock had his flying. But Hannibal...he had almost lost everything. Someone who was like a son. Was a son. Looking at Hannibal, Murdock could see more clearly than if Hannibal had told him, how he had agonized over the events of the last two years. Murdock had thought Hannibal was so in control during that time, even cold at times. Looking at him, Murdock understood, after all these years, just how much the man cared about Face, cared about them all. It was humbling. Very humbling.  
  
"Murdock? How's he doing?" The pilot snapped out of his thoughts.  
  
"Oh, uh, okay, Hannibal. Nothing weird happening, anyway. Just the usual."  
  
Hannibal nodded. Getting up, he started putting together what passed for breakfast for the injured man. He'd get the oatmeal cooking, then get Face up, get him out to the kitchen. After breakfast, an ordeal in itself, he would help him get cleaned up and dressed. Then it would just be sitting around, trying to stay occupied, getting Face what he needed during the day. Fixing meals. Puttering around. It wasn't the way he thought things would be when Face came home. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. It hadn't been this. But, he was grateful Face was home. Grateful he was alive.  
  
He stepped into the bedroom.  
  
"Morning, kid."  
  
*****  
  
The cast had come off, the wires removed. He was supposedly whole now. Except for his speech and his memory. Maggie had been wrong. Those hadn't come back. Gotten better, yes. But it would never come back completely. Other things had shown up as he had gotten better able to move around on his own. His coordination was off. His walk, shaky at times. Maggie had gone with him to the last appointment with the neurologist. Had been there when he'd been told that this was as good as it was going to get.  
  
His plans to get back on the road, shot to hell.  
  
He was here. For good now. He had nowhere else to go.  
  
He thought about Trish. And the boy. He'd come real close there. Maybe too close. It had been like having his own little family. Pipe dreams. Nothing wrong with that, as long as he knew the realities. Trish saw him as a friend. The boy, just a fun grown up to be around. And he had very little to offer them back then. Now he had nothing to give them. Pipe dreams.  
  
He'd started pushing Hannibal to get the team back in action. He wouldn't be part of it, of course, but he knew Hannibal needed it. Badly. Face may not be a hundred percent, but he wasn't blind, either. So he started pushing. Baiting him. Get him pissed off enough, he'd start finding clients, taking jobs. Find the Jazz. Come back to life. Face could do that much. Force Hannibal back into the living world again.  
  
Yeah, he could do that much.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal watched as Murdock and Face walked around the yard. Face had plans. He'd already talked to Hannibal about them, and gotten his approval. Now he was telling Murdock. Showing him the layout of the obstacle course. Hannibal had drawn up plans earlier; he'd thrown them away after Face came to him with his ideas. Didn't matter if Face's ideas were better or worse than his. It would be built the way Face planned it.  
  
He winced as he saw Face suddenly lurch to the side. Murdock grabbed his arm, got him straightened out, let go. That happened a lot. Hannibal had spoken to Maggie. It would take time, years probably, but Face's problems would gradually get worse as he got older. Hannibal sighed. They hadn't told him. No point. He had plenty of time yet. And Hannibal would make sure he was taken care of. Murdock and BA would, too. It was just hard, sometimes.  
  
Face was badgering him about taking on clients again. This obstacle course thing was part of it. Hannibal knew that. Face wanted the team up and running again, even if he wasn't involved. Face thought he was conning Hannibal into it, tantalizing him. What the hell. He was almost ready for it. Almost. Let Face push him a little more and he'd be there. He still needed that little push.  
  
Things would work out. Somehow, things would work out.  
  
*****  
  
"And then when the tank blew, man, he just flew through the air! It was great! And then, he'd had enough, right, so he takes off running - you shoulda seen the mudsucker then, Face. He tackled that guy like that. BAM!"  
  
Murdock was practically bouncing as he told Face about the last case. BA stood to one side, trying to scowl but a smile was creeping through. Hannibal leaned against the fence, arms crossed, cigar going strong, grinning at the pilot.  
  
Murdock continued with his narrative, Hannibal putting in a comment or two. They made sure they told Face every detail. It was as close as he could come to being there with them. Hannibal watched Face as Murdock leaped around, practically acting out the clean up. He saw the grin that was real now. No more play acting. No more trying to con them into thinking he was okay. Things were good now. Not perfect, but good. What more could one ask for?  
  
Face couldn't believe the change in these three over the past two months. Better than he could ever have dreamed. It was like having the old team back again. Like it was even before the court martial. Hannibal had the Jazz back, alright. Murdock had regained his humor, his wild love of life. BA was just as 'ornery' as ever, but the bitterness and the sadness was long gone. Looking at his family, Face had a feeling of accomplishment. He'd done what he set out to do. Brought the team back again. With that came acceptance.  
  
He smiled at his friends as they headed back into the house.  
  
"Coming, Face?"  
  
"Be right there." He looked out at his meadow. A beautiful green landscape. He turned back to the house, smiling that bittersweet smile, the morning dew waxing a deep, blood red.  
  
FINI


End file.
